Bestial Urges
by Apprentice08
Summary: When Sherlock returns and the whole family of 221B is reunited stories and lots of drinks ensue. Sherlock seems uncharacteristically emotional all night and things get even more strange after he has had a few to many shots of Bourbon. Sherlock revels a side of himself to Molly that no one has ever seen can she resist her own desires or will the temptation of Sherlock take her.
1. Bourbon on Drunk Street

**A/N: This is just a one-shot for now. Just something I did to celebrate the final season of Sherlock that will be released sometime between Oct. 31****st**** and January 1****st****. I really love the show and I love Cumberbatch and Freeman, they are so versatile. I don't think I spelled them right. **

Chapter One

Bourbon on Drunk Street

Molly was at Bart's late. Almost everyone, accept for the night staff, was gone. She was in the woman's locker room preparing to go home. Upon removing her coat she felt a shiver run up her spine but tried not to think about it. She was used to the creepy feelings she would receive on occasion while at the morgue late at night. In all honestly it kept her on her toes; part of her secretly enjoyed being a little jittery.

However, this shiver was different. She felt like she was being watch, she glanced over her shoulder slowly as she laid her lab coat across the bench next to her and allowed her eyes to scan the dim room around her. All was silent and there was no hint of movement or strange shadows so she tried, once again, to shrug it off and she started to undress.

Every since Sherlock's "fall" she had taken to going on a jog after work. She would leave her work items in her locker and pack her old clothes from the day in a running bag and then quickly change into her running attire before she started her forty-five minute jog home. It had made her feel so much better because the stress of keeping Sherlock's secrets for the last two years had really eaten at her heart.

So many times she had longed to tell John and see the look on his face. A look of shock would be better then the look of horrible depression and sadness that had started to create lines on his face and deep circles under his eyes.

She stripped down to her skivvies and then started to pull on her sports bra and jogging pants. It then that she heard it, the smallest hint of fabric brushing across fabric. She spun around and pressed her back against the locker in utter shock.

"You're back." She said after her eyes had scanned the room to locate the sound of the noise. Sherlock stood in the shadows, his ice blue eyes staring at her with a mild intensity.

"I must admit Molly, the jogging has done wonders for you. I never imagined a Molly Hopper with abs before. It suits you."

Molly looked down at herself and realized she was only in her sports bra and exceedingly tight jogging pants. She had never worn anything so form fitting in front of John, Sherlock or anyone for that matter. She only ran at night when most anyone she would know would be either at home, working the night shift or in bed. She had never been comfortable in tight clothes and realized, just now, exactly why.

Molly knew Sherlock didn't love her, could never love her. He would and could never WANT her in that way. It wasn't who he was, but the way his eyes scanned her body and looked her up and down made her realize she really wanted to put her baggy khakis back on. Her cheeks flooded with red and she turned away reaching for her lab coat in the process.

"How long are you here this time?" Molly asked as she tried to change the subject from her newfound abs to Sherlock himself.

Sherlock let the tension in the air slide away as he gave a small smirk, "As long as forever." He said.

It was way to romantic a statement for Sherlock and Molly swung around as she adjusted her coat. Her eyes grew wide as she saw the hidden smile in his lips and she couldn't keep herself from smiling back, "You mean-"

"It's over." Sherlock said as he allowed a small flash of relief to play across his face.

Molly didn't even try to stop herself, she crossed to him and wrapped her arms around him, "You don't have to hug back." She said feeling him stiffen.

"You can come home now." She whispered as she buried her face into his soft, warm coat. "You are safe. You are home."

Surprise took her heart into its grasp as she felt for the first time in her life his long arms wrap around her and hug her back. His chin rested atop her head and Molly swore she heard him inhale her scent.

As Molly pulled away she suddenly felt Sherlock teeter a moment, "Sherlock, are you alright?" Molly asked as she took his arm over her shoulder and led him to a bench.

"Even I am not exempt from the symptoms of malnutrition and exhaustion. It is finally catching up to me. I need water."

Once Sherlock was sitting on the bench, Molly rushed off for water and when she returned she noticed for the first time how not like Sherlock he looked. He was thinner with lines on his once perfect face and dark circles that matched John's. A fatigue that normally never existed in the man's normally serious face seemed to give him a softer appearance.

As Sherlock drank he put a large hand on Molly's knee and she scooted a little closer and placed her hand on his back.

"Molly, I need you to know. This wouldn't have been possible with out you. You once told me that you didn't matter, that you were not important in the grand scheme of my life. And while it is true that most times I have been less then kind to you, you as a person managed to fool one of the greatest criminal masterminds into thinking that you were nothing but a grunt. In fact, you are so much more. He didn't take you into account and there for you were never a target. You were, in all sense of the word, my trump card to his madness. With out you, I would have-"

Molly brought up a finger to her lips and Sherlock looked at her with sad and tired eyes.

"I would help you again if needed. Any time you ask I am here, no matter if your normal eccentric self returns in the near future or not. As it were, I am not important right now. The only person who matters right now is John. He needs you Sherlock; you must tell him tonight he won't be able to make it much longer. He became so dependent on your friendship and acceptance that when you left he completely shut down. I've had to force-feed him several times and his therapist can't ever get him to come in. He doesn't want to see or do anything. He just wants you and your friendship back and making him wait another night in the darkness will only kill him faster."

Sherlock drank this all in and then nodded as he stood on shaky legs; he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone.

"Call Mycroft and let him know what is going on. Tell him at any cost he is to get John over to the clubhouse tonight. No bitching."

Molly nodded with a smile and got to work.

00000

Mycroft had been very straightforward about John's condition when ever Sherlock had asked, but now, looking at the newest images of John that Mycroft had collected, it suddenly seemed like Mycroft's words hadn't done John's condition justice.

He looked simply awful, and his limp had returned…. And he was feeding pigeons in the park! He was acting like some old decrepit man who couldn't do more then hobble down the street.

"You let him near those filthy beasts?" Sherlock had asked as he shoved the pictures of his friend away and they skidded across the desk.

"It seems to be the only thing that makes him content, and if I do recall, you made me promise to allow the man breathing room. You wanted him to be content with your death Sherlock, and apparently feeding pigeons has become his only way to find it. I wouldn't judge, he has been lost with out you dear brother."

Sherlock balled his fists as he felt old fury return, Mycroft sounded just like mummy! How dare he lecture Sherlock about the value of his friendship with John when Mycroft didn't have any friends at all!

"Do not ruin this for me tonight brother. I want John to be happy not excessively irked off." Sherlock said looking out the window at the pouring rain.

Mycroft was about to rebuttal when a small peep came from the corner, almost like from the squeak of a mouse.

"Boys, um…. Maybe no fighting tonight? I know you don't get on… but John needs strength and reassurance. He will be irked either way Sherlock. You and I lied to him for two years…. Mycroft, you did too. I imagine he won't be happy to see any of us for a few days so Sherlock, I would prepare yourself and don't expect things to go back to normal five minutes after he sees you."

The small girl bowed her head and shifted uncomfortably as the two men stared at her like she was a different species they had never seen before. Mycroft placed both his hands on the top of his umbrella.

"Your pathologist is right, we must be ready for anything, come hell or high water John will be very… put out with us all."

Sherlock sighed and ran his hands through his hair and then looked at the door, as it swung open. Everybody visibly relaxed when they noted it was just a servant with a tray of tea and biscuits. He set the tray down near the center of the room with out a word and then left shutting the door behind him.

Silence filled the room as everyone realized just how tense the situation was.

"You did tell John his gun was not necessary correct?" Sherlock asked as if the severity of the situation just seemed to come to light.

"Naturally. With something this delicate discretion is advisable."

Sherlock nodded as he stared at a point on the floor and after a moment his eyes flickered up to look at Molly who was standing there looking totally defeated. Her fingers gently traced the side of the rather large grand piano that was cattycorner to the rest of the room. Her eyes were drinking in the shiny instrument as if she had never seen one before. Her eyes looked so sad and forlorn and her usually small lips looked bigger as she was allowing them to pout slightly. She sighed and Sherlock watched as she wiped a tear away.

Sentiment.

Sherlock whished he had an announce to spare, he wished he could allow himself to indulge because as often as he claimed to be devoid of all emotions he knew the truth, the truth that he hid from everyone. With the exception of Mycroft who had grown up with him no one realized that Sherlock had more emotion then most other people that he dealt with on a daily bases.

He just refuse to let them control him, Sherlock shoved his emotions down so far that he was able to numb out any other emotion that could cloud his usually logical and cool intellect. He had to be numb, because being anything else would ruin his abilities, ruin his mind. Emotions were like Heroin or Cocain, if he allowed himself to indulge in their seductive whims he would be lost and his deductive skills, his cold logical exterior would be adrift forever.

Sherlock couldn't allow that, he had to be who he was otherwise he couldn't do what he does. The truth was they would all be dead right now if he hadn't allowed his mind to be who it wanted him to be.

But as Sherlock looked at Molly he couldn't let it go, perhaps he had spent to much time with John and Molly and Lestrade but for a moment he allowed his barriers to fall and he took a step towards her.

"Molly…" She looked up at him as she continued to wipe her eyes, "I'm sorry, I know… I know I am too emotional… I just… it's finally over. John doesn't have to hurt anymore and I am… well… you are home… I am trying not to be over emotional but I c-can't…"

"Molly, I need to ask you something… it's very important… before John…" But he didn't finish. He looked over at his brother who, though unaware of what was to come, seemed to understand Sherlock's cue and turned away walking to the book shelf's nearby to look at the books with false interest.

Molly slowly walked over to him, her eyes puffy and her nose sniffling in an attempt to stop the flow of bodily fluids.

Sherlock handed her a tissue from the nearby table and waited for Molly to clean herself up.

"Molly, I need to know something… something that you may not be able to answer."

Molly nodded and though her eyes showed that she was longing to come closer she stayed a foot or so away and waited patiently.

"Why?" Sherlock asked.

Staring at him blankly Molly felt her mouth hanging slightly ajar and she shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts from her mind as she spluttered out a confused, "W-what?"

"Why… have you done all this…" Sherlock ask slowly trying to make sure his question was coming across correctly. He knew that Molly loved him that she was devoted to him but that still didn't explain why she did all this for him for two years.

"I don't… I thought you…knew…"

"Just say it Molly. I know you love me but you also know that that is a long dead road. You know I can't…" Sherlock faltered for a moment, something that never happened and Sherlock noticed Mycroft shift to look over at him, the look on his face was one of curiosity. For once he had no idea what was happening and he always knew what was going on were his little bother was concerned… Molly Hooper seemed to have a knack for stumping even the most clever of minds.

"You're right…" Molly said looking down, her demeanor changed then. The mousy Molly that Sherlock knew was changing and suddenly the real Molly was standing in front of him. No trembles or shakes or dodgy glances or constant avoidance. Her eyes locked with his and she said in a rather confident voice, "I love you Sherlock. And I know you can and will never return my affections. I am not a fool on this matter. And honestly, I never have expected you to."

"But why… you've gone above and beyond the call of friendship. You've done more for me then anyone. You've risked everything for me knowing that you will never get anything in return… at least not what you really want. Yet, you have put your job on the line, you've put your personal life on hold for two years… you were my life line and my personal doctor when I need it. You've done everything that a man's lover would do and you've done it all with out ever actually receiving any love or affection of any kind. I need to know why because I don't understand sentiment… I don't understand this side of humanity and never will… I just need to know, before it's too late and I lose the power to ask… why, Molly Hooper, would you ever do this."

"You've turned everyone but John, Greg, Mycroft and myself away. Even Miss. Adler was spurned after the incident in Belgravia. "

Sherlock felt his eyes grow wide, and he could feel Mycroft stiffen, how did little Molly Hooper know of the scandal that happened in Belgravia, was there more to her then Sherlock thought? After all this was Molly allowing him to see how clever she really was once the mask of fear and anxiety fell away?

"If I don't love you… who will?" Molly asked, "As awful and cruel and horrible as you can be, and trust me, I of all people know how you are Sherlock believe me-" A tear slipped from her eye but she furiously brushed it away, "But I also know you are imperfect just like the rest of us… you hurt… I told you once that I've seen you hurting… it's in your eyes and your face and the way you move. You will NEVER admit it Sherlock, but deep down you wish you were as blind as the rest of us. Part of you, a part you've forgotten wants to be a boring, normal, sloppy person like John and like me and like Lestrade. But you and I both know you can't, it isn't who you are, you can't-" Molly turned away from him then and for the first time Sherlock felt his stomach drop as he realized she was shutting him out, she had never done it before and he didn't like it at all.

He reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder, "Sherlock…" She said softly and she turned back to him, "You've sacrificed more for me then anyone else I've ever known and that includes my family. You would have died to save John and Greg…and if I had been in danger… I think you would have done it for me too."

"Yes." Sherlock said before he could stop himself.

"You are a great man Sherlock, but someday you will learn how to be a good one. No one can do what you do… and I think you've come closer to finding your humanity then you ever have before. Embrace it Sherlock, before the feelings are lost again." Molly said and then she turned and slowly started to head out of the room. Sherlock's eyes stared into her back and as she reached for the door she felt Sherlock's hand grab her by the wrist and he pulled her back and leaned down and placed a genuine kiss on her lips.

Molly was so shocked she felt her legs give out and Sherlock pulled her closer giving her the support she needed. The kiss was heated but not like something Molly had seen in so many of her romance movies. It was a true kiss and for a moment Molly forgot herself and allowed her heart to be swept up, this was Sherlock's way of saying thank you and she was going to take it all in.

Someone cleared their throat and Sherlock and Molly pulled away to look at Mycroft who gestured to the door on the far side of the room with his head, they turned to look and John and Greg stood there staring at them.

"Sherlock and Molly… I didn't see that coming." Lestrade said as John continued to stare with his jaw hanging.

"John… it's wonderful to see you." Sherlock said trying to smile but it faltered a moment and before anyone could react John had launched himself across the room.

0000

Everyone had made an attempt to get to Sherlock before John in an attempt to keep the detective in one piece. They thought John would go for Sherlock's throat first but as Sherlock moved his arm in front of Molly to keep her out of the way of the fist that was sure to fly towards his face Lestrade tripped over the corner table and the tea tray went sprawling across the floor as the Detective Inspector landed with a thud in a large puddle of tea. Mycroft had been half way before the tea tray had gotten lodged between the tall man's feet and he tumbled down to match Lestrade, both men reaching out in confusion to try and stop John.

But this entire ruckus had not been necessary apparently because when John did connect with Sherlock it was to wrap his arms around the man and hug him as tightly as possible.

"You bloody fucking thick headed eccentric asshole!" John yelled as he hugged Sherlock tighter.

"John, I… I am… happy to see you." Sherlock stammered, which was a rather delightful thing to behold. Molly giggled into her sleeve as she offered a hand to Mycroft who had been nearest her. The man took her help to stand clutching his umbrella in his free hand.

Greg had managed to stumble to his feet and was standing there staring at the two men with awe.

"How did you do it? What wonderfully horrible scheme did you develop to end your life like a hero. You just wanted the limelight of a glorious come back didn't you?" John said releasing the bewildered detective who very quickly adjusted his clothes.

"I can't believe you managed to hide this from me for two years. How'd the others take it… I mean… I get the kiss from Molly, she must have been bloody glad to see you but…Mycroft…."

John was so exuberant that everyone was still in shock; they all stared around the room not making eye contact, with the exception of Greg who was staring at Sherlock waiting for an answer.

"John I… I need to tell you something…" Sherlock said as he rubbed the back of his head nervously.

"Right, what is it?" John said as he gave his usual smile.

"I… Molly and Mycroft…they knew….the whole time. They were in on it…it's quite a lot to explain but…"

John's smile faded and his eyes danced between the three guilty parties.

"Wait, you mean… they all… they knew… the whole time. Molly Hooper and bloody Mycroft Holmes KNEW you had faked your death and no one told me? ME! YOUR FUCKING BEST FRIEND!" John shrieked as he looked to Greg, "DID YOU KNOW!" He yelled as Greg held up his hands in fear, "No! I didn't! This is the first I knew about it….come to think of it… you would think when it came to faking someone's death a man on the inside would have been a real help. Why the hell didn't you tell me! You know how much easier it would have been for me to go through all the bloody paperwork if I had known there was a good reason to do it!"

"I had a man on the inside… actually… a woman. Molly faked all the paperwork and kept in contact with me while I have been away to ensure that you and Greg were safe."

"Safe!" John yelled as he took a step closer, "Safe! You trusted Molly Hooper, and your brother but not me or Greg because you wanted to keep us safe? Safe from who? From what? Your own selfish personality?"

Sherlock was about to respond but Molly came to his aid, "To keep you safe from Moriartie's network! He has been gone two years trying to take down the people who have constantly been trying to kill us. All of us, Moriarty wanted to make sure that if Sherlock didn't die, if he managed to survive… that you would all be killed. Sherlock has spent the last two years disassembling his network so that no one else anywhere will ever be hurt or threatened again. He couldn't tell you because…"

Sherlock put his hand on Molly's shoulder and John furrowed his brow at the touch, "John, Molly was never a target… Jim never counted her as a friend to me. He thought I didn't care about her, that I didn't view her as a friend. To him Molly was not a weak spot with me so she wasn't on the paper to be assassinated. She was the only one who didn't have a sniper on her twenty-four seven. She was the only number in the equation that Moriarty hadn't accounted for, therefore she was my only hope at pulling off my not so permanent demise."

"But you could have told me you stupid git! I've suffered-" He stopped and bit his lower lip before he took a deep breath, "I've lost so many people in my life Sherlock. You are the closest thing to a brother I've ever had. Losing you… it almost killed me. And now, you come waltzing back into my life… acting like nothing happened, like I am supposed to welcome you back and act like you didn't choose to leave me out, like you didn't choose to let me suffer!"

"John… please I… I was trying to protect you… you and Greg and molly and Mycroft… I was trying to protect everybody. You know how I am with sentiment… I don't understand sometimes… but I was trying to do my best to protect the few people I care about."

Greg sighed and itched the back of his head, "I had a sniper on me?"

"The new man you hired… your personal assistant… he didn't show up to work a week after you hired him… he never came back because I took care of him. He had a gun on you the whole time Detective Inspector. You were going to be killed if I didn't jump. Even Mrs. Hudson had someone trained on her, the repair man she had hired… took me a few days to get him but when he didn't show up to repair the lamp fixture… he's gone now too."

"And me? What about me Sherlock? What mystery man entered my life and then mysteriously disappeared because as far as I am concerned… I've not had that happen."

"Moriarty knew you were my weakest point. He knew I would do anything to keep you safe. He knew I would bare my soul or jump off the highest building in London, what ever it took… he knew I would bend over backwards to protect you. He put a man called Sebastian Moran on you John, his top man. I had to chase him across the sea… but I got him… he won't be back either."

"Sebas-" John stopped and felt his chest tighten, "Moran was in the fusiliers with me… he was the best sniper in the brigade."

"He was also Moriartie's right hand man. I couldn't involve you… if Moran had even suspected that you knew… you know he wouldn't have missed a beat John."

John nodded almost absent mindedly, "So, it's all over. Moran's dead and… they are all dead?"

"Or in prison but I left few to be found. No one is going to come back for us, for any of us. We are all safe again."

John gave a shutter as he rubbed his arms with his hands, he looked confused and hurt and Sherlock, though he was running out of the strength necessary to empathies could tell that this was going to take a long time to heal between them.

"John, you are… you are a Holmes. Whether you like it or not you are a part of our small dysfunctional family. So you get all the shit that comes with it, including but not limited to dealing with all my sociopathic behavior. Mycroft has adapted, what I want to know now is… with time… can you?"

John allowed the hot tears to stream down his face and Molly moved forward slowly, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed gently, "We aren't much John… but we are all here for you. No one is going away any time soon."

John gently hugged her back and said softly into her hair, "I am sorry."

"Don't apologize, I've heard worse… I work with Sherlock…"

Greg let out a snort and John laughed a little, and then soon Molly was laughing too and Mycroft had a rather flighty smirk on his face. Sherlock laughed lightly as he slowly crossed to John and put his hand on the man's shoulder. Molly moved aside and watched as Sherlock extended his free hand, "Partners?"

John looked up into the face of the only man he had ever truly shared a bond with and with out double thinking at all took the man's hand and said, "Partners."

OOOO

"And so… the man in the back of the pub tossed me the gun and I shot Legume down before he could grab his knife. When I turned and asked the man for my bill he looked at me and asked... American Express?"

Everyone was howling with laughter accept for Mycroft whose smirk stayed firmly in place.

"He thought you were American?" Greg asked as he took a swig of his beer.

"Apparently they are infamous for brawling when they come to visit the country. But we all know how bloody savage those Americans can be right Mrs. Hudson?"

Mrs. Hudson was sitting on the piano bench not even bothering to gasp at the shrewdness of the story. She had cried for an hour when they had all walked into 221B and announced his return from the dead. She had hugged Sherlock on and off for twenty minutes and the man had done his best not to snap at her. He had missed her more then he had missed his own mother.

Now the whole group was reunited, John and Molly, Sherlock and Greg, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft all sat around the living room of the old haunt that Sherlock and John had called home.

"If you do not mind, I will take my leave. I have some work to do before next week to avoid the sure to be riot's near the courthouse."

"Riots?" Greg asked setting his beer down in confusion.

"Remember my dear Lestrade that my brother occupies a minor seat in the British government, he knows things before they happen." Sherlock said hiccupping as he took a small sip of his tea, which John had been dropping small amounts of bourbon into for the past three hours.

"Do I need to go to the yard?" Lestrade asked standing on a wobbly center.

"No need my dear fellow no need. It's just that, soon enough, the news of my brother's return will hit the papers… there are many who did not believe him a fraud and they will want him vindicated as soon as possible."

"Oh, right." Greg said sitting down and picking up his beer.

"Oh yes, my mass fan work of netted people!" Sherlock said standing and pointing his finger at the ceiling.

"His what?" Molly and Greg asked at the same time.

"I think he was trying to cross-reference his homeless network with his online fan base and somewhere in that thick brain of his he couldn't sort it fast enough. If the brain isn't clear Sherlock becomes rather inept." John said pulling on Sherlock's arm so that the man would sit back down. He tipped his bottle into Sherlock's cup and the larger man downed it quickly, "You know Molly, your breasts aren't as small as I have said they are. I was in the locker room remember?" Molly, who usually would have blushed and ran off to hide her embarrassment had already had three glasses of wine and simply laughed.

"I believe that is my cue." Mycroft said as he turned and headed for the door.

"See you Mycroft!" John called as he tried to steady Sherlock, "It's true! Greg, I think she is about a C… at least!"

"OKAY! I think Sherlly's had enough!" John said trying to save his friend the morning embarrassment.

"I don't mind!" Molly said and Mrs. Hudson playfully nudged her shoulder.

"Better get the boy off to bed before we have a case on our hands dear." Mrs. Hudson said to John as she stood and started to pick up the empty bottles that were littered around.

"Undoubtedly." John said as he tried to lift the man up and place one of Sherlock's arms over his shoulder. John himself wasn't quite as smashed as Sherlock but his own center of balance wasn't that good either and he struggled for a moment before Lestrade stood and helped John lift the man out of the room and towards his own.

Molly stood and started to help Mrs. Hudson gather up the clutter, "It's alright dear, I'm not really their housekeeper but they just make such a mess sometimes… and they are always on cases so I just tidy up here and there and try to help."

"I don't mind. Personally I think a woman's touch would be good for them." Molly said following the older woman into the kitchen.

"Don't say anything to Sherlock, but I think John plans to be adding a woman's touch around here soon enough." Mrs. Hudson said as she pushed the rubbish bin closer to Molly with her foot.

"Is john going to propose to Mary?" Molly asked. She wasn't sure how Sherlock would take it considering he had hoped, despite his comments on not expecting things to go back to normal; that John and him would be able to live somewhat close to how they had originally.

"I'm not going to say anything dear, but I do know that he has been going to a few jewelry stores the last couple of months. Though things now with Sherlock being back and all, I suppose it could complicate matters."

"Sherlock never really did care for John's previous girl friends I suppose?"

"You were at the Christmas Party, saw the way he dismissed that school teacher. Poor young thing. She had been so pretty too."

"Mary isn't hard on the eyes either though."

"I should think not but the way he goes on about her… you'd think she was the queen of the world."

Molly smiled sheepishly and as John and Greg reemerged from Sherlock's room giggling like school girls who had just figured out who was crushing on them they moved to the main room and Greg got ready to go. As Molly left the kitchen and was about to approach the two she heard a strange sound.

Turning she saw what she thought was Sherlock's door cracked open and a large hand poked out. A single finger motioned for her to come closer and Molly, double-checking to make sure no one noticed, slowly approached.

She leaned forward and was turning her head to listen as she felt a hand grab her wrist and pull her forward into darkness.

The door, which had been the only source of light, was shut quickly and Molly's eyes had no time to adjust before she felt someone grab her and press her against a wall.

"S-sherlock?" Molly called out softly.

"Of course, you're in my room." He whispered softly.

"Why are you whispering?" Molly asked as she tried to shift away from him casually.

" I have to tell you something… and John and Greg are annoying. I don't want them to hear."

Molly could smell the bourbon on his breath realized that this scene she was in was not a Sherlock norm. She was in his private space, he was almost pressing his whole body against her and he was practically whispering gibberish into her ear.

She had never seen Sherlock drunk and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

"Molly, my sweetest Molly. My own little pathologist, how would you feel about me keeping you in my pocket so I could take you out whenever I may need you."

Molly felt her cheeks go red and she tried to breath as she realized that Sherlock Holmes was coming on to her. And despite everyone's protests that he was married to his work, despite John's joke of the man being asexual Molly felt as if Sherlock was better practiced then any of them.

Sherlock took his finger and hooked her chin with it; he brought her face back to look at him. "My. Little. Molly. How could I ever thank you enough for all of the assistance you have given me the past… how long have I know you… seven years?"

"Eight, but whose counting." She said flashing a smile before she ducked out of his reach and maneuvered closer to the bedroom door.

"I'm always counting, everything." Sherlock said rounding on her very slowly. His posture and balance was impressive for a drunken man and she felt her heart nearly beating out of her chest as he slowly changed course and moved back towards her.

"I've counted how often you glance at me while I am at the morgue. And I've counted how many times I've made you blush or how many times I've made you cry." He said stepping up to Molly as he very gently pressed her against the door.

He reached up a hand and Molly locked her dark eyes on him, she had wanted this for so long but it was a bitter taste to know she couldn't reciprocate. He was drunk and in the morning he would be furious at her for allowing him to act upon something as… how would he put it… bestial as drunken sex.

She was pulled back when she felt his fingers grace the crown of her forehead and move some loose strands of hair to the side.

"You've done so many things for me, some small, some large and through it all… you allowed me to take advantage of you because you love me knowing full well that I could not return the affection. But now I can… I can give you any and everything you want Molly Hooper. And my bed is only three feet to the right…" the last line he whispered into her ear and Molly felt her knees almost buckle. She was clenching her hands so hard she felt her nails digging into her skin and she let out a small guttural breath, which drifted across Sherlock's neck.

If Molly could have seen his eyes at the moment her breath crossed the porcelain skin of his neck she would have seen them dilate, she would have seen his nostrils flare and his jaw clench as his hands slide from beside her head on the door to digging into her hips.

Molly let out a gasp and Sherlock leaned hard against her pressing her mouth into the crook of his neck. Thought Molly had already promised herself she wasn't going to let her 8 years of man worship dictate what happened tonight she had a lapse in judgment and gently bit into his skin.

Sherlock jerked and shoved her against the door as he let out a low moan, Molly felt her brow furrow as she wondered if John or Greg had heard anything yet.

"Sherlock… we have to…."

"Yes, I know…" He said stopping her midsentence.

His large hands gripped her arse and hoisted her up and Molly, with out meaning to wrap her legs tightly around him. His fingers dug into his clothes and she took another slightly harder nip at his neck.

Sherlock moved to the bed and laid her down roughly and Molly quickly sat up and shoved away. Sherlock looked up at her confused and then reached and grabbed her ankle pulling her back under him.

As of yet Sherlock had not crossed any line to make Molly uncomfortable or worried but that look he had given her when she had pushed away. It had been border line possessive and angry and Molly was worried that Sherlock's sudden generosity to grant her wish and fulfill her lustful desire was turning into something much more dark and dangerous.

Sherlock was a logical man, science and thought came before the sexual desires of the body. If everything John and others had said was true then Sherlock had indeed never had sex, which meant that Molly would be his first. And doing the math was not that hard, assuming Sherlock never… took care of himself… all of his sexual frustrations that he had put on hold to be the brilliant man he was were slowly creeping forth the further they went. Add on top of that the fact that Sherlock was close to smashed beyond belief Molly didn't need much more help putting two and two together.

The Sherlock she was in love with wasn't here right now this was someone different. This was the Sherlock no one ever saw and Molly suddenly felt her stomach tighten in fear.

Sherlock released her ankle and wrapped his hands into her thick auburn locks.

"You know Molly, with the street lamp shining through the window your hair looks the color of blood."

Molly felt Sherlock press his lips gently against her neck and despite her sudden realization she felt her back arch and a gasp escape her lips. Part of her wanted so bad to respond, and second by second that part of her was taking over. She put her hand on his chest and shoved and as he was pushed away she rolled to sit on top of him. She felt his length press against her and she whished she could let this go on.

She leaned down and hovered just above his lips, "I think you need to sleep this off darling." She pulled back slowly and trailed her finger gently down his forehead, over his nose and down his lips.

Sherlock gripped her hips tightly and gave a harsh thrust as his suddenly spiteful eyes locked onto hers.

"To tired are you darling?" He asked with an acidy tone.

Under any other circumstances Molly would have melted if he had called her Darling, bent to any request he had made. But Molly knew, the tables had shifted. She once again had to do something for him, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she destroyed him like this.

"You don't really want this Sherlock. You are drunk and you are high off the evening's activities. You won't admit it but you missed them and part of you was relieved to know they missed you too. We all missed you. You are our Sherlock. With out you we all wouldn't be together tonight. You are the center point of this family. Without you…" She stopped her self at the look that suddenly replaced his aggressive face.

"You don't want me anymore do you." He said, he sat up but Molly didn't move from her place on his lap.

"I am damaged now, and so you don't want me." Sherlock was looking down at the small space between her pelvic region and his own. The look could almost pass for hurt if his eyes didn't scream of confusion.

"No Sherlock, "Molly started as she took his perfectly smooth face into her hands, "I will always want you. I love you and you know it. But having sex with you tonight wouldn't be right. You would only regret it in the morning."

Sherlock's eyes went from confused to distressed, "But I want you… I do… I have been cruel to you before… but I wouldn't do that to you now… I wouldn't love you tonight and pass you off tomorrow."

"If I walk away now you won't even have to worry about it. You aren't yourself Sherlock and I won't be the one to be your downfall." Molly went to move off of him but his hands quickly came up her back and held her in place.

She looked at him and he leaned in and kissed her, Molly kissed back but did not allow herself to be taken up in it.

When the kiss ended Sherlock pulled her to him and placed his head on her chest, "I know more about you then you think Sherlock. If we did this tonight…you'd be replacing one addiction to conquer your demons with another."

Molly felt the hands on her back grip tighter and she kissed the top of his head as he slowly released her.

As Molly stood and straightened herself she was ready to walk out and let Sherlock sleep off this debilitating night and wake up feeling like he had narrowly dodged a bullet.

She felt his soft warm hand gently take hers and she turned to look at him. He was sitting on the edge of his bed and looking at her with rather cool eyes.

"Stay… just for tonight." The sincerity in his voice made Molly smile softly and she allowed him to guide her back and on to the bed. He lay down and pulled her close and she knew that she would need to be gone before he woke up.

He closed his eyes and said in a rather tired voice, "Thank you Molly Hooper."

"You're welcome Sherlock." She replied in the same soft voice.

"My Molly." He said as he drifted to sleep and Molly, though knowing this proximity would never happen again, smiled and snuggled in next to him allowing her eyes to shut.

OOOO

John sat at the breakfast table and read the paper as he slowly lifted a forkful of eggs to his mouth. He heard a muffled cry from Sherlock's room and then a thud and turned his head in time to see the man's door swing open and Molly Hooper ran out barefoot and just barely passable to go outside. She was adjusting her bra straps and straightening her jumper and holding her slip-ons in her left hand as she tried to get her hand through her sleeve.

She jerked to a stop suddenly when she noticed John and with the fork full of eggs still hovering in limbo between his plate and his mouth he was about to ask what was going on when he heard Sherlock cry out again, "Molly!"

The woman jumped as her eyes grew wide and she rushed for the door trying to get her shoes on. Sherlock swung out of his room in a furry as he chased after the petite pathologist who had just dashed out the door and into the street. Sherlock had stopped at the top of the stairs and stood there staring after her.

With a sudden jerk and a grunt Sherlock spun and as he passed by John he swung his arm out and a glass vase flew across the room and smashed into the wall nearby.

Sherlock turned to see John sitting there in total shock and awe, Sherlock gritted his teeth and yelled "PISS OFF!" as he went into his room and smashed his door shut.

John remained motionless as he sat there, the paper he was holding started to bend awkwardly at the top, as he was no longer focusing on holding the paper properly. He continued to stare at his flat mate's door.

Suddenly something came to mind, he hadn't seen Molly leave last night and obviously she hadn't since she had just rushed from Sherlock's room in a rather undignified tizzy. But something else played at his mind, something he had forgotten in his drunken stupor.

Suddenly it hit him, the groaning and grunting and loud banging from Sherlock's room last night. John had assumed nightmares and Bourbon induced restless sleep.

But the truth was right before his eyes as his own deduction skills were starting to twirl his head into overdrive.

Sherlock had… Sherlock Holmes had slept with… Molly Hooper… SHERLOCK HOLMES HAD SEX WITH MOLLY HOOPER!

"Oh God!" John said standing as his fork cluttered to the floor. He started towards Sherlock's door before he stopped and looked at the stairs. Should he go to Molly… or should he go to Sherlock or should he… what should he do? Molly was a strong young woman but she had loved Sherlock for so long and then him chasing her out of here after they had finally slept together…

But Sherlock was so unpredictable… did he realize what had happened, had he already erased it from his mind palace… was he going to forget Molly Hooper ever existed in his sheer panic to try and escape the fact that he had just… just… stooped his pathologist?

John went to Sherlock's door and as he was about to reach for the knob the door swung open and Sherlock was fully dressed including coat and scarf and swept right passed him and towards the door.

"Hold it! Hold it! Wait you arse!" John said as he followed Sherlock to the stairs.

"Yes, what is it John!" Sherlock said in a hurry.

"What the hell was that about!"

"What? Me rushing out the door or me getting dressed?"

"About Molly Hooper just now shuffling out of your room looking like she was at the bad end of a rough night!"

"Oh that, yes well not all of us look the best in the morning. She has long hair and I didn't have a hairbrush."

"Sherlock. Don't you dare push this off as another little fact of non-importance. You just slept with Molly Hooper! And then you kicked her out! She isn't a toy for you to play with Sherlock! She has feelings, she is a human being."

"I am quite aware she is a human being as I slept with her all night long and she is quiet warm." Sherlock turned to go and John stared in shock, "All night?" John asked.

"Yes. All night or didn't you notice her leave this morning?"

"I mean… this was your first time… and you… all NIGHT?" John asked with the most bewildered expression Sherlock had ever seen.

"Yes John, we shared a bed all night long, that's how it works when you sleep with someone! Now I have to go."

"Where are you going then?" John asked still in shock.

"I have to go find Molly! She rudely rushed out of here before I had time to explain myself and I need to clear the air."

"Don't you….wait… you're going to apologize?"

"I didn't say that. I am going to explain myself. Two entirely different things you should know by now I don't apologize." And with that Sherlock rushed out the door and left John standing there in more shock then he had been since the war when a grenade had gone off less then thirty feet from him.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he asked to no one as he stood alone in the silence of the apartment.

**A/N: Let me know what you thought. This story isn't top priority right now cause I have a lot going on not to mention other stories I need to finish including my teen titans and my Harry Potter so if you like this don't expect a second chapter right away. This is technically a one shot until I decide if I have time to finish it. Plz r&r so I know what you think. Also, I did not do heavy editing on this piece so there will be a lot of mistakes. If people like it and I continue I will rewrite this first chapter. Much love and peace! **


	2. The Chase

**A/N: I got so many reviews so quickly I just had to write another chapter. This one won't be 18 pages like the last one, but it may be a bit fun for us all. This chapter is called The Chase. And just for shits and giggles I should tell you I wrote the chase scenes of this chapter to the song **_**Hoedown**_**, written by Aaron Copland and performed by **_**Dallas Brass**_**. And it's for good reason too! I hope you enjoy this. **

Chapter 2

The Chase

Molly's eyes slowly opened and she was greeted with a shock, Sherlock Holmes was sleeping right next to her. Her suddenly sharp mind recalled the night before and she knew she had to be gone before he woke up. Drunk Sherlock would gladly cuddle with her but sober Sherlock would probably scream and shout about the sanctity of his room and how she had defiled it due to the fact that she was not only a woman but Molly Hooper.

With great effort Molly shifted away from him and slowly eased off the bed. She looked around for the clothing items that she had not even realized had been removed from the previous night. She tried to clasp the back of her bra, which had one to many clasps undone to be comfortable. Then she found her jumper strewn across the foot of Sherlock's bed. Her socks were not that far from her shoes but she didn't even remember taking those off.

She tried to recall every single detail of the night before; no doubt Sherlock would remember every single thing. From her facial features to her many gasps and on to her horrible kissing ability.

Molly winced at the idea of Sherlock dissecting her sexuality, he already bullied her enough, but adding jibes of a sexual nature would be too much. She could only deal with so much shit from him before she would inevitably go home and start crying.

As Molly inched to the door she absentmindedly reached for her necklace and stopped dead when she realized it wasn't around her neck. Her head slowly turned to look at the bed with the rumpled blankets and she debated what she should do.

The necklace had been from her father, the last gift he had ever given her before he passed away. She could always come back later for it but that would mean she would have to face Sherlock, she would have to face what had happened.

Slowly approaching the bed Molly bit her bottom lip and let her eyes scan over the blankets and pillows. No sigh of any small glinting jewelry. She was pressing her luck but Molly very slowly reached out and started moving the sheets and covers around hoping her necklace would fall loose.

When she thought she might have seen a glimmer of shine from next to Sherlock's head she let her knees lean against the side of the bed and reached slowly towards his face. As her fingers gently started to pull on the thin silver chain she bared her teeth and held her breath.

She jerked back when icy blue eyes snapped open and Sherlock shot up and grabbed her by the hair yanking her to him and crushing her against his chest.

His hand was around her neck and was squeezing, "Who are you! Who sent you!" He hissed into her ear.

"Sh-sherlock! It's me! It's Molly!"

"Molly? Molly who?" Molly saw his head turn to look at her and his hands released her, "Molly?" In an instant Sherlock fell backwards off the bed with a loud thud pulling the sheets, blankets, pillows and a very shocked Molly with. Another thud sounded as she lay on top of the pile of fabric that covered Sherlock.

Molly scrambled as Sherlock erupted through the mess on top of him.

"What the devil!" The man said in frustration as he tried to yank the remaining sheet off his head, he lost his balance again and cursed as he finally ripped the sheet from his face.

Molly was already out the door of his bedroom as she tried to get her cloths into somewhat decent order. Her make-up was probably smeared and her hair was a mess and her clothes were rumpled and had no desire to sit on her frame properly.

_I look like a crack whore_! Molly thought as she made her way to the door.

Something caught her eye and Molly turned to see John sitting at the breakfast table with a paper and some eggs at hand. Molly just stared as ever the deer in the headlights she had no clue what to say. She knew how this looked; it looked like she had slept with Sherlock. Well technically she had slept with Sherlock but she hadn't _slept_ with him.

Molly could tell John was about to comment when Sherlock's deep voice rang through the house, he sounded as if he was calling to a naughty child and Molly jumped and was racing to the door before anything else could be done to stop her. She felt the floor vibrate as Sherlock moved out of the bedroom after her but she was out the door and down the street before he could stop her.

OOOO

"PISS OFF!" Sherlock said as he went into his room and slammed his door. He started to pace frantically as he eyed his room critically. He could still smell her and he felt like he wanted to vomit. He grabbed up all his sleeping material and through it in the corner away from his bed, which he quickly stripped of any remaining sheets. Something hit the floor and Sherlock looked down to see a shiny silver necklace with a small blue pendent on it.

_Molly's necklace, given as a sentimental present by her father, very old, often played with and clasped under stress. Worn during showering, never removed…. very important to Molly…_

Before Sherlock had a moment to further deduce about the necklace he started to get dressed.

Molly had stopped him from having sex with her; she had put her own desires on hold…again…. So that Sherlock would be spared the bitter agony of losing control of his own body.

She had done everything for him all over again and Sherlock felt anger rise up inside him. Why did she have to be so perfect, so flawless! Why did she always make the right choice and never stray from the path of kind and gentle love. It was like Molly Hooper never questioned herself or her morals. It was like the woman knew everything about him and knew how to deal with all his pent up frustration and anger and…

_You're a bit like my dad…. _It echoed through Sherlock's mind.

_When he was dying he was always cheerful he was lovely except when he thought no one could see… I saw him once he looked sad… you look sad…. When you think he can't see you…. What I am trying to say is if there is anything I can do… anything at all… you can have me…_

Sherlock twisted on the spot and tried to focus so he could erase that memory but another came forward.

_All lives end, all hearts are broken… carrying is not an advantage Sherlock._

Sherlock gritted his teeth at hearing his brother's words.

_If I wasn't everything you think I am… everything I think I am… would you still want to help me?_

_What do you need? _

Sherlock grabbed his scarf and pulled it to tight around his neck letting out a grunt as he did so.

_You can have me…_

Sherlock pocketed the necklace and bee lined to his bedroom door. He had to make this right, he didn't know how. He had admitted twice last night that sentiment, love and kindness were all beyond his abilities. But he had to try, for Molly's sake he had to try and fix this or he might lose her forever and that was not something he was willing to do.

OOOO

Molly was racing down the street faster then she ever had before. She had never even ran this fast to catch the bus when she was late for work. She dodged people and maneuvered about trying desperately not to hit anyone. If Sherlock was following her then the less traces she left the better. She turned down an alley and sprinted out onto the next street over. She took a deep breath as she slowed her pace and tried to focus on her lungs, which were throbbing, she hadn't suffered from asthma ever but she felt like her throat was closing off.

She didn't know why she was running like hell hounds was chasing her but she knew somehow that if Sherlock caught her she was going to be mortified.

Suddenly she heard something behind her, through the small amount of people she saw Sherlock race out of the alley. She gasped and started to back up, his icy blue eyes caught hers and he started towards her. He was actually chasing her! He was trying to get to her as he pushed people aside, the look in his eye said determined but it also said trouble. Molly turned then with out thought and took off faster then before.

She looked back once to see Sherlock after her and she knew this was not good. Sherlock would never willingly chase after her; he wouldn't go to all this trouble unless Molly had done something unforgivable. She turned down another alley and went up the fire escape as quickly as she could. She saw Sherlock had just jumped to reach the bottom rung that Molly had just barely been able to get.

Why did he have to be so tall!

Molly dashed through an open window, which led into a hallway and she sprinted down it and took a sharp turn into yet another hall.

"What?" She cursed as she realized she was in a bloody hotel. She looked for an elevator and realized that if she took an elevator she would be a sitting duck. She found the door to the stairs and rushed through down to the bottom floor. Once she pressed through the door she headed straight for the exit and out onto the street again. She knew Sherlock was close behind; he was not the type to give up. Molly noticed a taxi sitting nearby and went for it.

But as she reached for the handle she heard a loud noise behind her and looked to see Sherlock had just plowed through a bus boy whom had had his arms full of luggage. In that second she had hesitated a rather fat man had come in and taken her cab.

"Oh no sir! Please I need-"

"Piss off." He murmured as he shut the door and Molly kicked the door in aggravation. She turned to see Sherlock had helped the busboy up and was looking at her with an intensity she hadn't seen since last night. He must he absolutely furious.

"Molly…" he said as she started to back up.

"I wouldn't…. I will be right behind you… you can't get away from me. We need to talk." Sherlock said taking a step towards her.

Molly had been biting her lip but something in her realized that the tone in his voice was different then she had expected. He was challenging her and in all truth if this hadn't been about their awkward encounter last night she might let him catch her to talk. But her humility at last night and then being caught in his room this morning and how he had all but man handled her last night… there was to much humiliation, her heart had broken over him a long time ago and she couldn't stand to hear him lecture her about the stupidity of love or how dim she had been to assume he had really needed her comfort. She wasn't going to let him hurt her anymore, she was his friend, but she was not his bitch.

"If you really want to talk to me Sherlock, you will have to catch me and pry a conversation from my small little mouth!"

And once again she was off, she didn't turn back to see the look of surprise on his face or the small smirk that crept across his lips.

"The game is on then." He said pushing past the confused young man from earlier to resume his run.

Molly kept running through the crowd, she was not a coordinated person; she was not especially athletic either. She was giving this run her all because she wasn't going to let Sherlock have his way with her again. If he really wanted to talk to her about this and humiliate her he would have to catch her.

A man with a cart of fresh fruit had just pushed it out into the sidewalk and Molly knew this was a problem. People on either side, no way around and the street was filled with cars. It was the dumbest thing she could do but she turned and saw Sherlock only a few feet behind her. She took a deep breath and prayed she wouldn't break a leg. She jumped and when her foot connected with the side of the cart she shoved and sprang over it. When she landed she felt her ankle give a painful zing up her leg but she kept going.

At the end of the sidewalk Molly saw a woman standing next to the open door of a black car. She was motioning for Molly to hurry. Molly didn't recognize the woman or the car but at this moment she was so desperate to escape from all this that she sped up and raced towards the car. She heard Sherlock calling behind her, "Molly! DON'T GET IN THAT CAR!"

But Molly paid him no heed, when she was close she made a dive and felt someone slide in after her and slam the door shut. Molly looked out the rear of the car and saw Sherlock standing where the car had just been breathing heavily. His eyes were narrowed and to Molly's shock he took off down a side alley.

Molly turned around and leaned back against the seat, "Oh my God, thank you." Molly said through gasps for breaths.

"No problem." The woman said as she tapped away at her phone.

"Um… sorry… who are you?" Molly asked suddenly realizing that she had been so desperate to get away that she had jumped into a car with a stranger.

"I'm Anthea." Molly sat a moment and then felt her heart grow heavy, "Y-your Anthea?"

The woman just nodded with a small smile and continued to type on her phone.

"Mycroft wants to see me then?" Molly asked.

For the first time the woman looked at her in surprise and she silently asked how Molly knew.

"I listen to John and Sherlock in the lab sometimes, kind of hard not to when it's so quiet. They spoke about you and Mycroft… never thought I'd be here instead of John."

Anthea pursed her lips and with out a word and went back to furiously texting on her phone.

Molly leaned her head back and closed her eyes, she hoped to God Sherlock was not trying to tail the cab.

OOOO

When Molly had ran up the fire escape Sherlock had been surprised but nothing had shocked him more then her challenge to him and then the thing with the fruit cart… she had not wanted to be caught. She did not want Sherlock to get her.

His mind was confused as he ran through the back alleys and over the rooftops trying to get to his location as quickly as he could.

Perplexity was swirling in his brain as he tried to focus on his mental map of the city.

Molly had said he could have her, yet when he went to get her she ran from him. Was this some twisted game that women play? Was this what playing hard to get meant? Because this seemed a little bit above what most women that Sherlock had observed had ever done. Even Irene hadn't been this confusing and obstinate.

But part of Sherlock had been overjoyed when she had ran, a real challenge, and one that didn't involve killing people or trying to save his friends or some innocent civilian. He wasn't bored; he was intrigued because little Molly Hooper had brought to him a game, a simple one really, but a game nonetheless.

If Sherlock wanted to talk to Molly he had to catch her, and if he understood the rules of the game that meant once he caught her she was his…. Well she was already his… she had said so…. But then what was the point of this game?

Sherlock shook his head clear and tried to speed up his pace, he could get this all cleared up when he caught Molly.

_The game is on! _

_OOOO_

Molly was sitting in a rather plush chair in front of Mycroft when a servant brought in some tea. She gladly took it and sipped with a little more vigor then was necessary.

"Sorry." She said as a blush rose to her cheeks, "I'm a bit peaky. Just ran across town."

"Oh, I am well aware of what had just occurred. That is why I sent Anthea to your aid."

"To my… aid? You mean you didn't bring me here to cross examine me?" Molly asked with a little confusion in her voice.

"Naturally not. I am well aware of all the events that took place last night and I must say you handled everything rather well. Not many people can run from Sherlock and make a clean escape."

"I wouldn't have had you not sent the car. I was loosing steam once I jumped the cart."

"I noticed that… pretty desperate to get away from my brother Miss. Hooper."

"It's very complicated and while I do appreciate your help I am not sure I could share the details of Sherlock's private life."

"Of course. I wouldn't ask you to. What I ask from Dr. Watson is different then what I ask of you."

"And what exactly do you ask of me?" Molly said suddenly sitting straighter as she set her cuppa down on the table.

"Be gentle with him. He has stowed his heart because it has always been necessary to do so. But I know my brother and I do believe that someday… perhaps longer then you would be willing to wait, he will be able to be Sherlock Holmes the brilliant and Sherlock Holmes the loving. For the time you have given him he has learned much but I worry that in the months maybe even years to come he may start pressing into areas that you may not be willing to allow him to go. Feeling out the waters so to speak. I dare say, aside from our mother you are the only woman who has been so loyal and so understanding despite what he has said and done."

Molly digested this information and while she wasn't sure what Mycroft meant from the statement of Sherlock feeling out the waters or pressing into areas Molly may not want to go she was certain she knew one thing, she was the only woman in Sherlock's life that had stayed and had given him everything he had ever asked for. She was the only one who had put up with him, and not tried to take advantage.

"As I am sure you are aware of the situation that occurred some time back with a Miss. Irene Adler, you can only imagine the issues that arose from her quiet uneven displays of affection."

"I would hardly call them displays of affection, from what I understand she used him and seduced him into doing something that nearly destroyed the country."

"Someday I will be asking how you came to know all this…. But now is not the time…in ten seconds Sherlock will be at the door. You can either stand and face him… or there is a window right there."

Molly's eyes flickered to the window and then back at Mycroft, it only took her a second to know that the window was her best option.

"Ta ta Miss. Hooper and may I saw, you put on quite the show for Sherlock."

Molly made a face as she scooted out the window, "Good bye Mycroft." And then she was gone.

OOOO

Sherlock kicked the door to his brother's study open and stared at the man who sat like a triumphant king upon a throne.

"Where. Is. She." Sherlock hissed as he took in a couple gulps of breath.

"She is out the window and by this time near mummy's favorite gardens. If you hustle you can cut her off by the maze."

"Mycroft I swear…." Sherlock stopped and stared at him.

"That's it? What did you say to her? You're not going to try and make this ten times more difficult?"

"I said nothing she didn't already know, she is quite sharp for someone of lower intelligence. I adore her and mummy would have too."

"Mycroft I…" Sherlock had been about to slander him terribly when the man cut him off, "Twenty seconds before you lose her… I'd hurry brother dear."

Sherlock didn't hesitate; he sprang for the window and was out it in a flash sprinting down to the gardens leaving Mycroft with a rather smug smile on his face.

"Just like our father, always chasing after mummy."

OOOO

Molly could see the car waiting for her near the front of the drive. All she had to do was reach it and then she would be home free. The gravel under her feet crunched as she approached what looked to be a large hedge maze to her right. If she took a left and cut across the grounds she could beat Sherlock despite his unusual ability to run for hours on end.

But just as she was about to pass the opening to the maze Sherlock stepped out from behind a tree and Molly skidded to a halt. He stood there staring at her, his eyes still as intense as they had been earlier. A small smirk played across his lips, "I am honestly impressed Molly but I am getting very bored with this and I really need to talk to you. So if you would just sit down here with me and we can-"

Molly took off in the only direction she could.

Into the maze.


	3. The Maze

**A/N: I can't believe I've gotten so many reviews for just two chapters. I can't promise all my chapters will be quick because I have a lot on my plate but I am really digging this. Keep the reviews coming and I will update as much as I can as quickly as I can!**

Chapter Three

The Maze

Molly was turning corners and spinning in circles and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. The sun was fading and the shadows of the tall hedges were starting to creep up her body.

She was getting cold and after a few more seconds of panic she made herself stop in her tracks and lean against one of the hedges. She looked up at the fading sky, a deep blue was settling above her and the clouds had tinges of pink and purple. It would have been a wonderful night to watch the sun set.

Apparently today had turned into a marathon for her, those two years of jogging home from work had paid off though. She was in fairly good shape considering she had run all over London.

"Calm down. You are in control… you just need to double back and find the exit and then you will be fine."

"Fine isn't the word I would use." Came a deep velvety voice from behind her. Molly jumped and turned to see a hedge and realized Sherlock was on the other side.

"You can't escape me Molly. I will follow you to the ends of the Earth. We need to talk and you will find I am quiet persistent."

"Oh yeah? Well so am I." Molly said as she tried to decide which way to go.

"I will run you into the ground." Sherlock said with a dark tone.

Molly didn't say anything; she stood silently waiting to hear if the gravel started to crunch under his feet. Silence greeted her and Molly took a step and heard the gravel crunch under her like a million little bells alerting Sherlock to her location.

"You need to end this Molly. Come to the center of the maze, I will be waiting there." Molly turned to head back in the direction she had come, if he was going to the center to wait for her then she would retrace her steps and get out of here.

But before she could take another step she heard some rustling and turned to see Sherlock's arm protruding through the bushes.

"Molly. I don't think you understand the severity of the situation."

Sherlock's clenched fist opened and from his thumb and forefinger hung the necklace her father had given her.

Molly took a step and Sherlock pulled the necklace back into his palm.

"Ah ah, you can have this back… if you meet me in the center. You have twenty minutes. Otherwise I will just have to keep this as a little token of our night together." Sherlock's hand disappeared back into the bush and Molly stood there dumbstruck.

Letting out a breath she didn't know she had been holding Molly didn't have to wait to make her decision. She continued towards the center knowing that if she wasn't there in twenty minutes Sherlock would be good on his word and she would never see her father's necklace again.

She wormed her way through the paths and tried to make sure she didn't go in a circle. She knew this maze couldn't be as big or difficult as it seemed so she focused on never taking more then one turn in the same direction.

It took a little longer then she liked but she finally saw an opening in the hedges where they arched over the top and Molly came to stand in the doorway to see the center of the maze. It was diamond shaped and around the edges the white gravel continued to make a perfect path. In the center were four perfectly placed benches that sat upon four large flat cement squares. Leading from the path to the squares were stepping-stones that lay in a small mote of water that wrapped all the way around. Lilly pads and other water plants stuck out here and there and Molly was sure she could see coy swimming around. Her eyes had only had a second to take all this in though for in the very center of the benches stood Sherlock. His arm was held out to her and her necklace dangled from his gloved fingers.

"Impressive, only ten minutes, the first time I came in here it took me twenty, but to be fair I was only six."

Molly didn't say anything as she slowly approached and reached for the necklace. She was worried that Sherlock would pull it from her reach at the last moment demanding for them to talk first but he did not.

Once she held it in her hands she put it in its rightful place around her neck. And then swallowed thickly as she slowly brought her eyes to look up at Sherlock.

"I wouldn't. I can see it in your eyes right this very moment that you want to run again, because you don't think you can face what I have to say to you. You are tired of me always hurting you…I can see it in your eyes and your face and the way you move…"

"Stop it, you're just mocking me!" Molly turned away from him and fought back tears. This is why she had ran from him, she knew that once he had caught her she would be forced to listen to this, to him and his transparent deductions. The stinging in her heart was going to kill her any moment.

"_Don't_ run from me Molly. It's a waste of your time and energy. I will always find you and I will always catch you… because I always win."

"I know there are things you want to say to me. Things I won't like and frankly I don't want to hear them. I know what you are going to say… I can't hear it anymore. I already told you I don't expect anything from you. Why did you chase me today?"

"Why did you run?" Sherlock countered.

"You know why." Molly said not feeling very generous.

"Last night was not a mistake Molly. I was drunk but I knew what I was doing."

Molly tensed and felt such an anger rise up in her, she hadn't been this made since her father had died, "YOU LIER!" she yelled.

Molly turned to run, she couldn't do this, she couldn't play his mind games with him. She wasn't clever enough, her emotions always got the better of her. She wasn't a match for Sherlock Holmes and she wasn't going to pretend she was.

Molly felt an arm wrap around her torso, "NO! LET ME GO YOU BLOODY LIER!"

"You're not going to run from this anymore! And neither am I!"

Molly thrashed in frustration and managed to land a kick with her heel on Sherlock's shin. He tripped and Molly twisted but he wouldn't let go and soon they were on the ground.

"I am not going to let you lie to me anymore!" Molly said as she tried to crawl away but Sherlock got on top of her back and pinned her down.

"Enough of this Molly!" Sherlock bellowed.

But Molly didn't stop and finally she heard Sherlock grunt from a blow of her elbow to his gut. Not that he had a gut, being this close to him Molly could tell he didn't have a single ounce of fat on him.

"Very well, if you wish to behave like a child I see no reason why I can't treat you like one." And with that Sherlock was up and as Molly scrambled to her feet she felt two strong hands grab her and spin her around.

Before she knew what was happening she was being thrown over his shoulder and Sherlock started to walk towards the exit of the maze.

"Put me down! You awful horrible cruel-"

"Say what you want but we both know that isn't how you really feel." Sherlock said and Molly felt her temper flair.

"I am never going to help you ever again! No more autopsy photos and no more organs and I won't be attending any more of your Christmas parties you mean… you mean mean…. JERK!"

Sherlock kept walking and before Molly knew it they were outside Mycroft's window, "Have a good hunt brother?" he asked Sherlock.

"HUNT?" Molly bellowed.

"Marvelous. Would you mind having Anthea bring a car around for me? This one still seems to have some kick in her." He said with a rather awkward tone as Molly thrashed again.

"Of course. Have a pleasant evening."

"YOU TWO ARE ABSOLUTLY BARBARIC! MYCROFT! YOU PLANNED THIS DIDN'T YOU! YOU SHOVANISTIC, ECCENTRIC-"

"Doesn't seem to be getting tired does she?" Mycroft asked as he stared at Molly with a smirk.

"Not a bit." Sherlock said with annoyance in her voice.

"I AM NOT A DEER YOU ARSE!" Molly said as she kicked some more.

"Carry on then." Sherlock said as he walked away towards the front drive.

Molly had calmed down less then slightly when they made it to the front of the manor. Anthea was waiting with a car holding the door open, "Have a good chase then did we?" she asked.

"Marvelous. Do let Mycroft know I may come back for the winter season if he keeps his game preserve this enticing."

"Oh piss off." Molly said as she hung there like the dead animal they kept refereeing to her as.

Sherlock finally put Molly down and stuffed her into the car and slid in next to her.

"Pleasant evening then." Anthea said with a smirk.

"You have no idea." Sherlock said giving her his best fake smile.

As the driver started to head down the drive Molly turned to Sherlock and said in a rather harsh whisper, "You are such a prat!"

Sherlock's head slowly turned to look at her and his eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything. He simply let his face sink back into a small smirk and then turned to look out the window.

OOOO

The drive back was unbearably quiet but Molly didn't say anything else, she just wanted to rest. She had quite literally run for the entire day and she wasn't sure if she would be able to jog home after work for the next week.

Oh God! WORK! She had taken off from Sherlock's flat this morning and now the sun had already set and she knew it had to be past eight at least.

Molly reached into her pants pocket and realized her phone was missing. "Shit." She hissed as she checked her other pocket.

"Missing something?" Sherlock asked as Molly checked both the pockets of her jumper.

"My phone must have fallen out of my pocket when I was running around today."

Molly looked up to ell Sherlock it was all his fault when she stopped and stared as he held up her pink mobile phone and swayed it back and fourth slowly in front of her.

"The fruit cart… when you landed and hurt your ankle it fell out of the pocket. I was going to use it to lure you in but I figured the necklace would be more valuable then your phone."

"And you say you don't understand sentiment." Molly said as she snatched the phone away. Sherlock stared at her a moment and then spoke, "I've never seen you so snappy. Are you menstruating?" Sherlock asked.

"W-what!" Molly asked as her face went bright red.

"Ah, there's the Molly I know." And with that Sherlock turned back to look out the window.

Molly, who was still in shock from Sherlock's comment, managed to dial into work and leave a message on Mike Stamford's machine. Hopefully she wouldn't get into to much trouble.

She ended the call and then looked at Sherlock who continued to stare out the window. She noticed they were no where near her flat and she suddenly realized they were heading towards 221 B baker street. Molly felt her heart start to pick up again, "Why aren't we going towards my flat?"

"Because we are going to my flat. 221 B is a far more comfortable place to talk and John won't be there tonight. He will be out with Mary."

"You already learned about Mary." Molly said more as a fact then a question.

"Of course, how could I not. He practically reeks of sex."

Molly flushed again and looked down. She suddenly remembered why Sherlock had been so obsessed with catching her today and her stomach fell.

"Sherlock, I don't want to talk about last night. What happened happened and what didn't happen didn't happen. Why not just erase it from your memory and we can go back to how things were. I don't want to mess up our friendship, especially because it was such a long time in the making. Why not just erase it from your memory and then everything will be as it was and no one will have to suffer."

"You would." Sherlock said in a low velvety voice but he wasn't looking at her and Molly looked down with a sad face, "It doesn't matter. I've lived with my mistakes my whole life, you're one of the few people that doesn't have to. This could all be over right now if you just forgot it ever happened."

"Last night wasn't a mistake and there for I need to speak with you about it. You can't get out of this and trying to won't make me go any easier on you. I am tired of you taking the fall when I make a mistake. I won't allow you to be in pain because you are so loyally devoted to my own happiness. We are going to talk Molly Hooper and we are going to do it before you can run again."

Molly stared at him for a moment before she looked down at her feet, this was going to be the longest most miserable night of her life. A long time ago she would have done back flips to spend this much time with Sherlock. Now it felt like a death sentence.

**A/N: Let me know what you think!  
**


	4. Suppose you Suppose

**A/n: It's really hard for me to update cause of work and boy friend stuff but I will do my best. I hope you enjoy this chapter; there is less fun but more meat. And incase you are curious I was listening to the song **_**Fair**_** by Remy Zero from the soundtrack for Garden State when Sherlock and Molly are in his flat. **

**Chapter Four **

**Suppose you Suppose **

Molly slowly followed Sherlock into 221B and felt a strange rush of nostalgia hit her as she remembered the last time she was in this flat.

Christmas, of course Christmas would just have to come to her mind at this moment. The whole thing felt like the last walk to stand before a firing squad. She just couldn't imagine what was so important that Sherlock would feel the need to go through all this just to speak to her.

Once they reached his flat he shut the door and then motioned for her to sit down so Molly took the chair nearest the fireplace and folded her hands into her lap. She kept her head down and stared at the floor willing hers heart to be strong no matter what Sherlock said.

Sherlock had removed his coat, scar and gloves then turned and moved into the kitchen. Molly heard clinking and the tap running and then all was silent as she waited.

About five minutes later Sherlock came in with a tray of tea and set it down. He fixed two cups and then handed one off to Molly before he took his own and went and stood next to the window looking down onto the dark street below.

The silence that passed between them was thick and Molly could hear the blood rush to her face as she tried not to start crying. She was terrified that Sherlock was going to tell her that he couldn't be her friend anymore, that the things that happened were unforgivable and that he wouldn't be coming to the morgue anymore.

"Molly…" she jumped a little at the sound of his soft deep voice speaking in the silence.

Molly's shaky hands set her cup down and she locked her eyes on to the side of his face. The part of her that was still sexually attracted to him, that part that burned like a beast inside of her felt his heart splutter a little at the sight of the streetlights reflecting off his pale skin.

She wished she could run her fingers through his hair and trail kisses down his stomach towards the man's…

"The reason things happened the way they did today was because you were afraid of what I might say or do once I got you alone. Be it for the better or worse you didn't care either way. You knew that you might not like what I have to say and so you refused to hear it."

"S-sherlock please…" Molly said in a rather pathetic voice.

"Stand down Molly. You will let me finish." Sherlock turned to her and set his own cup down, Molly stood slowly and crossed her arms over her chest in a painful manor.

"You let your fear control you because you've loved me for a long time, and even though I may be somewhat… ignorant… of what love would truly mean to a good person… I am not ignorant of how a broken heart feels."

"Irene." Molly whispered.

Sherlock was silent a moment and then approached her slowly, "Molly, you've been invaluable to me. You've been there when other couldn't, when other wouldn't. But you've also allowed yourself to be so loyal because your heart is stuck in a very dark place."

Molly's eyes met his as he grew closer and took her hand, he pulled her slowly across the room and then right up next to him, "I am not a good person Molly. I have a dark heart and I can't change that. What others find sad or heartbreaking I found wonderful. I cheer when people die because it means that the throbbing in my mind will be ebbed only momentarily. I hurt others because I hurt myself, my own brain is worse then ten years of torture at the hands of Moriarty. Sometimes my mind grows so restless that all I can do deal with the throbbing is find a way to displace it."

Molly blinked back tears as she thought she might know where this was going; he was going to say good-bye.

"I consumed cocaine when I was young because it took away the throbbing and replaced it with a tranquility I had never felt before. Boredom was not an issue and the release was systematically better every time. But the price I would have to pay in the years to come only proved I couldn't continue down this path. Thus I became what I am now. For my brain to function properly I cannot allow myself to be led astray with feelings or sentiment, but even as a young child I could never really grasp what love was. My own mother thought something amiss in my mind and had me looked at. But it is just who I am, there is nothing and no one to blame but myself. I don't know why but I can tell you for certain, something you already deduced about me a long time ago, I can not now or will I ever be able to love you Molly Hooper."

Tears finally fell from Molly's eyes and she looked away in shame, "I know." She whispered as she desperately tried to keep her voice from cracking into a most disgusting sob.

She felt a warm hand on her chin and her face was lifted up to look at his own, "But there is something more important I want to talk to you about, something I think only you will understand."

"What do you need?" Molly asked in an all to familiar tone, the tears ceased almost immediately. A thought came to Sherlock then, something that was all too worrisome to think about.

Perhaps the reason Molly had managed to love him for so long was because she felt love being returned when she managed to accomplish something for him. Whenever he asked her for something she always found a way to give it to him and in doing so she felt satisfaction and warmth because she knew Sherlock was pleased. She didn't need him to lover her back; she just needed him to need her.

"Molly… last night…" Molly swallowed and pushed away shaking her head, "No, we can talk about anything but that."

"You can't run from this, I will not let you." Sherlock came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulder leaning down into her ear, he took a breath and whispered sending shivers of her spine, "Something happened last night Molly. Something new… something that has never happened before."

Molly just slightly turned her head towards him as his lips brushed her neck, "Last night, through the blur of the booze and the heat of our brief moment together, the throbbing… stop."

Molly felt her breath hitch in her throat and she turned to look at him but he was slowly moving away to stand by the window again. She felt her heart racing and her fingers twitch.

"It hasn't even completely stopped, you see, even when I am on a case there is a pulsing in the back of my mind. And no matter how intense the case it is always still there. Reminding me that when the case is over it will come back to haunt me, to drive me mad with boredom and restless urges to find trouble."

Sherlock turned back to her and started to cross slowly to her, "But last night… it was gone… completely… I couldn't feel it, hear it or find it."

"You were d-drunk." Molly said in a soft stutter and she looked down angrily at the floor for the small slip. She had been doing so well speaking to him like a normal person. Why would it have to come back to her now?

_Because you can feel his body heat… and now you know exactly where this is going…_

"You cannot blame the booze Molly. I've tried everything to alleviate the burning of my mind, do you really think if I have tried cocaine I wouldn't have tried alcohol before. The liquid beast does little but intensify what I see, hear and feel. I need to make this clear to you Molly; I would have chased you to the ends of the Earth if it meant one more night with out the throbbing aching pain that constantly hums in the back of my mind. I need you Molly Hooper but not in any way you could ever want. And that is why I have to end this, our friendship… I would break you… use you over and over as my drug to alleviate the pains of my mind…it's not what you want….what you want I can't give… and if we were to stay in contact… I wouldn't be able to forget last night… not for a million cases. The peace… the tranquility was like a thousand shots of cocaine. I thought sex was what people do when they love each other… something that I could never allow myself to indulge in. But I am not naïve, I know the darker side of sex Molly and as my heart is dark… so would be my sexual desires towards you. I cannot ask you for something so bestial, as I have always respected you and have always valued you as a friend to me, someone I trust unconditionally asking you for something so inappropriate would be even beyond anything I've ever done. I cannot and will not ask this of you and cannot subject you to the ways I could try and take it from you."

Molly was speechless; she finally understood everything, his reaction last night and the next morning and why he had pursued her. Molly was sure even Mycroft had been unaware as the older brother would have stopped him from trying to do something the younger would regret. Sherlock Holmes finally wanted to shag her but not for the same reasons that Molly wanted to shag him. And he wasn't talking about normal sex between lovers… he was talking about a drug that could numb him to the constant hum of a mind that was to brilliant for it's time.

He wanted her to be his cocaine… it was another favor but this time he was telling her that he wouldn't ask it of her. He respected her too much, cared about her well being too much. Even Sherlock knew the limits of what you ask a friend to do and being your sexual release so that your mind wouldn't blow over into insanity wasn't something that was normally asked.

But Molly didn't want to be just his friend; she had wanted him for so long and a very large part of her would take friends with benefits over no Sherlock at all any day.

Molly bit her lip, but what was the cost if she did give in to him? Would he lose respect for her? Would the dynamic of their relationship change in a negative way? Would she lose him forever? She had stopped things last night because she hadn't wanted to change him, but if being with him sexually could help him… could keep him from changing… could take his pain away… why wouldn't she do something she had always wanted?

Could she live with herself if she slept with him one night and then walked away? What if she did? What if she allowed one night with him and then let him push her out of his life? She would get what she wanted and he would get what he wanted. Her heart might actually break less knowing she had at least gotten the one night she had always dreamed of, though the romantic side of said dream would be non existent. One night of no meaning, none romantic sex then Molly could walk away like he wanted, and Molly would still have a small piece of him to keep in her heart.

In the morning Molly would regret this but as it was currently she was caught in the moment of his admissions and now that she finally understood she knew she could do this one thing for him and allow him to walk away from her life. She could let him go if he allowed her the one night she had always dreamed of.

Molly slowly walked up to Sherlock who was standing next to the door holding it open. His eyes were off to the side and he looked ashamed, at least as ashamed as Sherlock Holmes could look.

Molly bit her bottom lip and took hold of the door pushing it shut and locking it, Sherlock looked at her with confusion and when the reality of the situation struck him his eyes darkened.

"Molly… don't…" he whispered as she slowly walked towards him and slid her jumper off her shoulders.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything else as she came to his side and gently stroked the back of her hand down the side of his face.

"I would give you anything Sherlock. I am devoted. Now I am asking you to give me something in return. One night."

Sherlock's eyes opened and his icy blues settled on her, "I will take the throbbing away tonight and be gone tomorrow."

"Molly I can't do this to you…" he said softly as he breathed heavily and leaned towards her lips.

"Then do it _for_ me." She said softly and she gently brought their lips together and finally got to put her fingers through his soft brown hair.

In an instant Sherlock spun her and harshly pressed her into the piano near by, he hoisted her up and sat her on top causing stacks of papers and books to spill over onto the floor and flutter here and there in the wake of their cravings.

Molly started to unbutton his shirt with desperation, this was it, her moment with Sherlock Holmes. She could have it and be selfish about it because he wanted it this time. This time she wouldn't stop herself or talk herself out of it.

Sherlock pressed his thighs harshly against hers as he started to unbutton her blouse and then slide the straps of her bra down her shoulders. His warm hands rand up and down her arms before he reached around her took solid hold of her backside. He pulled her onto him much as the night before and as Molly started to slide his dress shirt down his arms Sherlock moved forward and pinned her hard against a wall. She bit into his neck and heard him grunt, he gave a hard thrust against her in response when suddenly there was a noise.

Molly looked up to see the door-knob turning, "Sherlock!" She whispered but he wasn't listening and he bit her shoulder harder then she thought he would. Molly pressed for him to let her down, she pushed against him but he held tight.

The door started to swing as Molly whispered, "JOHN!" that seemed to wake Sherlock up from his mindless biting and he spun really hard around as John walked in. His face had been completely neutral until he watched Molly fly across the room onto the floor. Sherlock's hands had slipped as he had turned and Molly had been dropped on accident to land at John's feet.

"Hello John." Molly said through clenched teeth as she looked up at him through the mess that was her hair and then glared over at Sherlock.

"Usually Sherlock dear, when a flat mate comes home and you are getting off with a girl you take her to your room… you don't drop her onto the floor!" Molly bit angrily as she pushed herself up.

"Molly… I…." but Sherlock was stopped by John whose face had turned from shocked to confused, "Wait, you were trying to get off with Molly?"

"Actually I was trying to get off with him." Molly said as she blushed a deep red as she started to pull herself together.

Sherlock went and got her jumper and phone and handed them to her and then started to pull his own shirt back on and button it.

"I will see you two later… um… night…bye." And then molly was down the stairs and out the door just like before.

John stared after her and than back to Sherlock, "Molly Hooper? I mean I put two and two together eventually and realized you two actually didn't get off last night but you were gone all day and then I come home and you two are… ripping each other apart against the wall of our flat. Sherlock, don't spare me the complex details of your observations and pointedly annoying rants, what the hell happened today!"

Sherlock took his time and very slowly put himself back together, buttoning his shirt and tucking it in and then re-adjusting his belt. When he had finished he meet John's eyes and smiled, "How was dinner with Mary?"

**A/N: So, this is where I have to leave this chapter. I had more to add but haven't had time to add it so I will tack it on to the next chapter and this way you guys will have some stuff to read. Sorry if there are any typos I didn't have time to edit this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!**


	5. In Loving Arms I Lay

**A/N: So I have a couple worried readers and I feel the need to put some worries to rest. So, in my previous A/N I made mention that I posted the previous chapter early and didn't finish it because I hadn't had time. This is the second half of the last chapter. Also, I set it up in chapter three with Mycroft saying that Sherlock may go into places Molly couldn't follow. And for all those who are wondering, this is in fact a romance and Sherlock will not be treating Molly in any way that would be unbefitting of our hero. But Sherlock, like all people, is imperfect. And he obviously feels emotions but struggles with them. While I will not be giving away what things may come to light or how the story will end I implore you to keep reading and take this journey with the characters as they grow and develop. I am a predominantly dark writer and so most of my readers will find dark themes through out my works but that is not to say that they will be the basis for the theme my story may revolve around. **

**I promise I will treat each character with respect and as much kindness as possible for the situations they have found themselves in. But human emotions are at play here so don't hold out hope for true love to blossom over night. Because true love can take a long time to blossom, but when it does it will be in the right place at the right time. Keep holding on! Thank you for your reviews, follows, favorites and for enjoying this story enough to worry about the outcome.**

**Chapter Five **

**In Loving Arms I Lay **

The silence in the room was unsettling as icy blue eyes met warm brown ones. John rested his arms on the sides of his chair and Sherlock mimicked him. It had been an hour since Molly had rushed from their flat at 221 B Baker Street and John had refused to let Sherlock to anything until he came clean and told John everything.

As per usual, Sherlock had danced around the subject for the last hour and then fallen into silence. John stared at him hard and finally about another five minutes felt his finger nails digging into the edges of the chair's arms.

"Sherlock, talk to me. It's obvious that his line of questions makes you uncomfortable but-"

"I am not uncomfortable." Sherlock said softly as his eyes finally broke away to gaze irritatingly at the door.

"You are, I can see it, you don't want to talk about this but you need to. And heaven help me for trying to be your friend but you have no one else and I want to know. What is going on between you and Molly Hooper."

"Nothing John. I have already told you, it was a misunderstanding, she jumped on me like a beast from the jungle and when you walked in I had been in the process of removing her from my-"

"Don't. Lie." John said and the warning tone in his voice caught Sherlock's attention.

"You've lied to me for to long. I am willing to look past the last two years because you did it for me, for us, for all of us. It took a bit but I get it. However, the very woman that helped you get through the last two years was just recently in this flat snogging you like some dewy eyed school girl who just got together with her coveted English professor. I want answer and so help me I will keep you here for the rest of the night or the rest of the year. Now start talking or-"

"Or? Or what? You have no way to make me talk…"

"Or I will tell Mycroft." John said matter-of-factly with a cheeky smile on his face. He leaned back with ease when he saw the look of shock on Sherlock's face.

"Well aren't we smug." Sherlock said bitterly as he yanked on the front of his button down in a futile attempt to adjust it.

"Why doesn't this bloody thing fit anymore!" Sherlock snapped as he stood and skittishly danced around trying to adjust his shirt.

"Well, you recently had a woman handing off of you, she pulled on it in her attempt to remove it… she stretched it Sherlock. You had a woman stretch your shirt."

"Why? Why did it stretch? Does that happen all the time? Do woman stretch your shirt every time they try to mount you?" Sherlock was genuinely asking these questions, he sounded like a little boy who was lost.

John felt the utmost pity for the man who seemed more confused and lost then an adult man who had just had a sexual encounter should.

"Sherlock, sit down. Sit down and talk to me. I am here as your friend, you keep me around for a reason… let me help you." John said trying to keep his frustration under control.

"I told you the first day why I keep you around… people look at me funny when I talk to my skull." Sherlock said absent mindedly as he unbuttoned and re-buttoned his shirt.

Suddenly he stopped and John sat back as he rolled his eyes, Sherlock was suddenly sniffing the air and looking around with a frown of disgust on his face.

"What is it now?" John said as he shifted to a more comfortable position.

"Do you smell that?" Sherlock said in an appalled manner.

"Smell? No I don't smell anything." John couldn't help but smirk as Sherlock slowly circled the room and then finally stopped to look down at himself and then flash a look of fear to John.

"It's me… IT'S ME! I SMELL LIKE A WOMAN!" Sherlock said as he frantically tried to unbutton his shirt again.

John bursted out into laughter as he watched his friend rip through the button and throw the shirt on the ground. He was bare chested now and Sherlock stormed off to retrieve another shirt.

"What did you think was going to happen!" John called through small chuckles.

"I didn't think that physical contact, which lasted less then ten minutes, could leave the musk of a woman who barely wears perfume as it is hanging over me like some dirty mop!" Sherlock called from his room.

John continued to laugh in his hand gently until Sherlock stalked back out in a new button down that was black; he hadn't bothered to button it.

"Why are you acting so ridiculous over this. Most people wouldn't mind having the smells of their lover on their clothes. Most people find it comforting."

"What people? In case you don't remember I am not most people John. I am not like any people! I am impossible, and completely helpless in these matters and I don't know what to do or what is going on and I DON'T LIKE IT!" Sherlock yelled the last part as he kicked the piano leg with such ferocity John almost stood to come to the instruments aid.

"I don't understand! I don't understand anything! I told Molly how I felt, that we couldn't be friends anymore because I am not capable of such feelings! I don't UNDERSTAND!" Sherlock yelled looking down at the ground spitefully.

"What don't you understand?" John asked as he realized he was finally getting somewhere, he stood and crossed to his friend but kept a few steps back in order to keep from overwhelming the often unpredictable man.

"I told her that I couldn't be with her because I couldn't love her! I told her that if we had sex that it wouldn't be what she wanted! I told her I would use her and throw her away and leave her out of my life! She still climbed me like a tree! I must have been sprayed with pheromones or perhaps she misunderstood or maybe she just…"

"Maybe she didn't care." John said softly and Sherlock looked up at him with eyes that showed more emotions then John had seen since the fall. His heart clenched at the image that replayed before his eyes and John knew this was just another form of falling to his socially inept friend and he didn't understand why.

"You need to tell me everything so I can understand Sherlock. I can't help you if I don't understand. For once, please, let me be your friend… on my own terms. Sit down and start talking." John said kindly but with a stern sort of desperation.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed and his pupils twitched back and fourth as he studied John from head to toe. Sherlock was looking for any chance that the man could be toying with him. But John wasn't a threat and Sherlock knew it.

After a moment Sherlock seemed to finally give in and he moved to his chair, John went back to his and pulled it a little closer to be nearer his friend.

"On the night of my return, after the festivities out here in the main room, you and Lestrade put me to bed. But I didn't go… I called to Molly… who I knew would come like a fish on a line." Sherlock looked away from John like he was the guiltiest man on the planet but didn't stop talking.

"I cornered her and tried to… I succeeded in… I just wanted to have something interesting to do. I wasn't tired… I couldn't sleep and my brain was aching from the alcohol and it was reeling and spinning and I could hear and see everything and I thought my mind was going to implode."

"What did you do Sherlock?" John asked calmly.

"I seduced her. I thought it would be fun… I knew she cared for me and I wanted to see how far I could push her until… "

"Oh God Sherlock." John said softly, but he didn't pull away and Sherlock mentally thanked him.

"She responded like I thought she would… I did intend to thank her for all her help the past few years. Just a kiss… she seems to like any affection I show her… even a smile seems to brighten up her day… I thought a kiss… a real kiss would… It went to far John. Before I knew it we were on the bed and about to go there, the place I'd never been because I thought it was just some place to go when emotions I couldn't feel came to normal people like you."

John rolled his eyes and sighed, "What happened next."

"We… I…Molly stopped me… she stopped the whole thing and told me that she couldn't let me go through with it… that I wouldn't be Sherlock anymore if I did."

"Wait, Molly Hooper, Miss. I dream of Sherlock….stopped you?"

Sherlock nodded and glanced towards his bedroom, his eyes darted back to the floor and John swore he saw heat rise to the man's cheeks but in an instant it was gone and he had to double take.

"She saved me from making a mistake… at least I thought she had." Sherlock said suddenly standing and running his fingers through his dark hair.

"What do you mean you thought she had? She didn't?" John asked as he leaned forward and watched a suddenly irritated Sherlock paced around the flat.

"I realized when she got up to go that my mind palace was silent, the constant noise and pressure and humming that usually occupies my mind was gone. I'd never heard it be so quiet… not even when I was an addict."

John's interest was peaked; he had never, in all his time knowing Sherlock, heard the man talk about what actually happened inside his head.

"There is a pain John, something I cannot describe to you in any other way then a deadly silent hum. Constant gears cranking like the engine room of an old steam ship. Thoughts trying to connect and reconnect and neurons firing so loudly I can hear them, and with them comes a sterile boredom… one you know all to well."

John nodded his head with out realizing it as Sherlock spun on, "If I don't keep the boredom away the humming gets louder, the need to move about and do things gets more incessant. The boredom drills holes into my brain and thoughts start to devour themselves. In other words it hurts. Very badly. I cannot sit still, nor can I think clearly. I get jittery and my body starts to ach from the lack of movement. And it never slows down John, it gets worse and worse until I find a way to make it all stop."

"The drugs…" John trialed off.

"For awhile I had found the pressure release valve to the steam engine that was my brain. But the toll it took on my physical body didn't allow me to do anything else. Once one high would fade out I would need another but not because I was addicted to the chemicals but because I was addicted to the blessed silence. Cases became the only way to get my brain under control. The more I solved the easier my mind flowed and once I started to organize my mind palace and meditate and learn to control my rather violent urges to explode on others I was able to become a consultant detective. From time to time I lose that control. Do you remember The House of Baskerville? Fear, it hooked into me when I was exposed to the chemicals. I had to fight my own eyes and focus on complete fact and truth. I was terrified and my mind was spinning over to try to find the answer. I hurt you that day… out of fear and pain and utter confusion. I only hurt people John…."

John was about to attempt to console his friend when a thought suddenly occurred to him, "So, when you were with Molly the other night… your mind was at ease?"

"The easiest I had ever felt. Not even ten shots of the purest Cocaine had been able to do that."

"I- ten shots?" John asked in a panic.

"Oh, not all at once John." Sherlock said pushing off the question with annoyance.

"So Sherlock…Sherlock sit down and listen to me!" John said as he motioned to the chair with his hand.

Sherlock grudgingly walked over and thumped down into the chair rather like a child and John wondered how Molly would feel about the man if she could see him act like the big baby he was.

"Sherlock, I need you to pay attention to me right now, as much attention as you can. I need you to deduce something for me." Sherlock's attention was grabbed and he sat forward and made a pyramid from his fingers in front of his mouth, his once lethargic eyes had turned hard and calculating.

"What… is it about your chances with Mary because I am repulsed to say they are very good."

"Wha- No Sherlock focus. Okay, now listen carefully. Your mind is a ticking time bomb, it's always in motion trying to think and focus and figure out solutions to things that may not even have one. You've tried multiple times to find a way to get it under control but you've been unsuccessful so far with the exception of your brief time with Molly Hooper the other night. So deduce for me the multiple possibilities that could have occurred during your brief first night with Molly that could have caused the alleviation of the constant hum in that rather "_miss the obvious_" brain of yours."

"I never miss the obvious." Sherlock said stubbornly.

John rolled his eyes and growled, "THINK SHERLOCK!" the shorter man barked as he sat back and exhaled in frustration.

Sherlock gave a sigh and rolled his own eyes before he shut them and started to think….

0000

Three hours had passed and John was asleep in his chair, Sherlock's eyes were still closed tight as his brain funneled through the truckload of information he was pulled from all points of his mind palace.

_Affection: n. The act of having feelings for someone and showing that feeling in a manner that-_

_NEXT_

_Sexual Desire(S): Cravings coming from either sex of the same species, a yearning to mate, to feed obsessions with-_

_Sacrifice: to give one's own life, morals or feelings up for another, to make a sacrifice to ensure the happiness of other, to sacrifice a human, ancient blood rituals_

_NEXT_

_Emotion(s): feelings that often times show how we think about someone. An emotional response to stimuli: see LOVE_

_Love: An emotion shared between two people when chemicals in the brain_

_NO, SIMPLIFY. _

_Love: A mutual feeling shared between two people who care about each other…._

_SEARCH: MUTUAL FEELINGS_

_Mutual Feeling(S): To agree share or consent upon the same course of action, to share the same feelings as another-_

_SEARCH: MOLLY HOOPER_

_Molly Hooper: Father died at younger, often misses him, cares about him deeply, wears necklace- _

_SKIP _

_Molly Hooper: Loves cats, floral, pathology and Sherlock_

_SKIP, SIMPLIFY._

_Molly Hooper: Intelligent, pretty, simple, emotional, sex: female, hair auburn with a hint of red, eyes watery brown, lips are small, breasts are small, hips good for child bearing but has not found mate. Loves Sherlock. _

_CROSS REFERENCE MOLLY HOOPER AND SHERLOCK HOLMES WITH MUTUAL FEELINGS. _

_SHERLOCK HOLMES X MOLLY HOOPER X MUTUAL FEELINGS: To share mutual feelings each person must find something in common with the other. _

_DEAD BODIES, CRIMES AND MYSELF_

_Each person will usually find the other physically attractive. _

_HAIR AUBURN WITH A HINT OF RED, EYES A SHADE OF BROWN LIKE AMBER, SMALL LIPS, BREASTS AND WIDE HIPS….MUCH LIKE THE WOMAN…._

_Each person will enjoy spending time with the other, often sharing duties and responsibilities, often working together in harmony. _

_LATE NIGHTS AT LAB, TALKING THROUGH EXPERIMENTS TILL THE MORNING, ALWAYS MAKING SURE TO BE IN THE LAB WHEN SHE IS THERE._

_Each person will find physical proximity pleasant and awkward moments may pass by unnoticed. _

_SHARING A MICROSCOPE, EXCHANGING SLIDES, OFTEN LEANING CLOSE TO EACH OTHER WHILE DISCUSSING CAUSE OF DEATHS…TEXTING WHEN I WAS AWAY…TO BE CLOSE… TO KNOW SHE WAS THERE…. WRAPPING HER LEGS AROUND ME, KISSING HER…TOUCHING HER…._

_Each person will care about the other in the same way i.e. HATE verse HATE or LOVE verse LOVE. _

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he stood up with a rather dramatic gasp, John was pulled awake in an instant and he was greeted with Sherlock grabbing at his head and looking close to falling over.

"You think… you think the silence of my mind is cause by mutual feelings between Miss Hooper and myself. You think I love her!" Sherlock yelled as his eyes crossed and uncrossed.

John stood and stretched slowly, "Brilliant deduction. Took a little longer then I thought but-"

"Your wrong." Sherlock said in an icy tone as he squared up and looked at John with heated and angry eyes.

"Sherlock-" John started in a soft tone.

"No, it is impossible. I don't fill my brain with trivial things. I don't have the capability to feel something as insufferable as love."

John stared at his friend for a long moment before he spoke again in a soft voice, "Then why did you jump."

Silence fell between them and Sherlock stared at him with a questioning look in his eyes, "What?" Sherlock asked.

"If you are incapable of feeling love then why did you jump?" John asked.

Sherlock's eyes jerked back and fourth as he thought about the question and then he said with absolute certainty, "It was the only logical way to save you."

"Save me? Or save all of us. Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft and me… that's four people that you would have died for…"

"I didn't die." Sherlock said with minor conviction.

"You could have." John said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"John, I calculated every moment of that jump. I knew what would happen if I was off in the slightest but I knew I wasn't. I knew I would survive."

"Because Molly was there to help you. Of all the people you could have trusted you trusted Molly."

"There was no other option."

"Don't." John said as he shook his head.

"Don't what?" Sherlock asked once again mimicking John's own stance.

"You have played the emotional robot for to long. You care about Molly and the rest of us. You care enough to die for us be it real or fake. You can't tell me that everything about you is some cold, un-feeling machine." John said, "I won't ever believe it if you do."

Sherlock turned away from him and walked over to the window, he stared out of it and said nothing.

"No Sherlock, don't shut off from me. Molly was your lifeline for two years while you were away. And you can't even bring yourself to think you might have come to rely on her too much? Or is it that you can't give the rest of us the satisfaction of knowing that under your coldness there is a heart."

"I don't feel love for her." Sherlock said softly.

John kept his determined gaze on Sherlock as he asked his final question, "Then what do you feel. It must be something… you barely let me touch you… you don't let anyone touch you in fact… and then I come home to find her not only snogging you but you reciprocating."

"She came onto me."

"YOU HAD HER PINNED AGAISNT A WALL!" John shouted.

Sherlock was silent for awhile and John just stood there staring at him, his hopes for this conversation to go well had all but dissolved.

"I do not know what I feel for Molly Hooper but it is best for both of us if I do not see her anymore." Sherlock said not bothering to look back at his friend.

John stared at him, "Don't do that to her. You are fighting this thing… what ever it is… if you fight it something bad will happen. You don't understand what happens if you ignore your feelings… especially if that feeling is love… you could hurt her worse."

"I will never hurt her again." Sherlock whispered as he turned away from the window and headed towards the darkness of his room.

"By not telling her you already have." John said sadly as he sank back into his chair and put his face into his hands.

OOOO

Molly sat at home in her kitchen, she stared off into space as the steam from her mug of tea slowly drifted up and vanished just a few inches before her eyes.

Her mind was at work, hard work, much the same as Sherlock but a little less organized.

_Does he care? How would I know if he did and what can I do to prove he does? Is there a way out of this with out him having to not be who he was meant to be? What's the solution should I just leave and never speak to him again? We were going to have sex, he looked almost disappointed when John had walked in, was it because he wanted to null out the voices in his head or because he genuinely wanted me? _

_Could he ever want me like that? He's shown emotion before… he knows how to use it to his advantage… is he using me? Or am I really something special to him….something or someone? What am I to him? _

_Should I act like nothing ever happened? Should I just go back to being Molly, the pathologist who never says no?_

Molly shivered, she did never say no, what if things hadn't happened the way they did, what if Sherlock had tried to force her into something… would she have said no?

He had given her an out, told her that he didn't want to hurt her that he would respect her because she was his friend…

"_You do count and I've always trusted you…" _

Molly heard Mycroft's word echo after Sherlock's, "_I worry that in the months maybe even years to come he may start pressing into areas that you may not be willing to allow him to go. Feeling out the waters so to speak_."

Did Mycroft mean that Sherlock would start experimenting with the idea of sex…or even…dare she hope it… love. Was he trying to reach out to her? Did he not know how?

Maybe Sherlock was going off of instinct… maybe today and the other night at the reunion he had not known how to approach her or what to say. Maybe he had been so confused on his feelings for her tht he had lashed out in the one way he thought would be socially acceptable.

But when did one night stands to declare your love for someone become socially acceptable?

Molly put her face into her hands and began to cry. She cried for a lot of reasons. She cried because she was worried Sherlock was about to cut off from her. She cried because she knew no matter what happened she would always love him somewhere in her heart. And she cried because she knew that even if he did love her, Sherlock would probably never be able to feel it or act upon it. She had only ever had to deal with his unrequited love, but now, if he loved her… she would have to get a grip on the fact that he may never be able to show her.

**A/N: Please let me know what your thoughts and feelings on this are. I told you this may take a bit because Sherlock is new to this whole thing and I want to make this a little more unique of a love story. If this has given you enough hope to continue to read I should have the next chapter up in a week or so. **


	6. Perhaps Another Time

Chapter Five

Another Time Perhaps

It had been two weeks since the dramatic incodent that had caused a rift between the small group of friends that often resided together at the morgue.

Sherlock was avoiding Molly who was in turn avoiding Sherlock. And anytime Molly wanted to see John or even consider grabbing coffee with Greg it was only when she knew Sherlock wasn't working a case or was at home at 221B.

John had been living outside of the old flat for at least a year and a half from when Sherlock had "died" but was not in any hurry to go back. Sherlock had taken up residence again and much to everyone's surprise as of yet had not thrown a giant tantrum about John's lack of presence.

Sherlock was currently sitting in Lestrade's office and damn did he want a cigarette. Two weeks with out a case and two weeks with out having a reason to go to the morgue. He used to go if he was bored. He would help Molly with her own research or, if he had something to work on, completely take over the lab and use it as a means to an end.

Lestrade had finally called him into the yard today, much to the chagrin of his coworkers, and was now attempting to fill Sherlock in on their most current unexplainable case.

"So the problem is… how did the old bird get her husbands body from one side of London to the other when she's blind, has a bad hip and can't drive?"

"An accomplice." Sherlock muttered as he traced his fingers over his lip absent-mindedly.

"What?" Lestrade asked.

"An accomplice!" Sherlock said louder and with frustration as he stood and ran his hands through his hair.

Lestrade watched him a moment, and then sighed, "That's what we figured but as the old bird confessed to the whole thing and has a rather detailed description of how it all occurred my hands are tied when it comes to looking into the matter further."

Sherlock stopped pacing to look at him, "She confessed?"

"To everything. Now I think it is safe to assume she is trying to protect someone like you said but as she has no children and all her friends are in the same predicament as her…"

"What predicament?"

"All her friends live with her at the home." Lestrade said.

"Home?"

"Assisted living Sherlock." Lestrade said tossing the file across the desk.

Sherlock approached and lifted the file to open and scan it.

"Look, it all comes down to this, there is no way Eliza Danbury could have done it but all the evidence points to the fact that she is the only one that did. Do you see my problem? If we can't find out who she is covering for I have to send a ninety-five year old blind woman to jail."

"What about the staff at the home?" Sherlock asked.

"We have people interviewing them and reviewing the camera footage now but if nothing comes up then my hands are tied."

"There are cameras at an assisted living home?" Sherlock asked.

Lestrade stared at him, "Well yeah, they have over 2,000 old people who can barely remember to dress themselves let alone that they aren't supposed to go outside alone. They have to have a way to keep track of them. I was informed that only a few months ago one of the older residents walked out into the middle of the road and got hit by a car."

Sherlock shivered, he couldn't ever imagine being old enough to forget not to stand in the middle of the road.

"How many casualties has this home had in the last year?" Sherlock asked.

"No many, it's top notch, people pay them a lot at this place to keep their family safe and secure."

"So people pay them to keep their family out of the way and under control so that they don't have to."

"I wouldn't put it quite so coldly but yes… that's the idea."

"Pathetic." Sherlock muttered as he handed the file back to Lestrade, "Have you seen the body yet?"

"No I was just about to pop over. You coming?" Lestrade asked as he finally stood and started to put on his jacket.

The moment Sherlock had been dreading had come, he was intrigued with this case as simple as it seemed, but going to the morgue was something he had hoped to avoid. But it seemed that it was unavoidable, he had to see if the body was damaged.

"I will come." Sherlock said and as they headed towards the door Sherlock stopped,

"Do you have a cigarette?"

Lestrade turned and sighed, "Alright, I was willing to over look it but now I got to ask. Who is she?" Lestrade asked.

"What?" Sherlock said with real confusion.

"The girl who has your knickers in a bunch."

"What makes you think there is a woman…"

"Come off it. I have known you long enough to know that you don't twitch and fidget like you've been doing unless you got something on your mind…. To top it off you've been rubbing your lips and your hands have been running through your hair. I know the signs mate; I've been through it. Who is she?"

Sherlock just stared at him out of the corner of his eye as his brow furrowed, "Give you two cigarettes if you tell me." Lestrade said with a smile.

"Why do you care?" Sherlock asked.

"I've always told people you were a great man Sherlock, and that I had hoped someday you would be a good one. If you've really fallen in love with someone, which we all know is highly unlikely, then you might just be on your way." Lestrade walked off at that with out a smile, he looked pensive and Sherlock slowly followed him before he heard a voice that sounded an awful lot like molly whispering through his mind palace, "_You are a great man Sherlock, but someday you will learn how to be a good one. No one can do what you do… and I think you've come closer to finding your humanity then you ever have before."_

Molly had said that to him on the night he had returned, she wanted him to be a good man. So did John and Lestrade… was he so great that goodness had become foreign to him? He was not a nice man he knew that but a good one? Could that be possible?

When they got outside Lestrade held up two cigarettes and Sherlock felt his fingers twitch and his lungs fill with longing.

"Who has captured you mate?" Lestrade asked, "Sworn to secrecy of course."

Sherlock tightened his jaw and then reached for the cigarettes, Lestrade pulled back, "Ah ah, come on mate… it's either tell me now or let me find out later…. Eventually John will tell me… or you will blunder it so badly that half of London will know."

Sherlock grunted and spoke softly, "Molly Hooper."

Lestrade's eyes widened and his mouth hung open, "My god, really?"

"Piss off." Sherlock said as he grabbed the smokes and then ducked into Lestrade's car.

"No, it's cute mate… come on don't be like that." Lestrade said hurrying in to join him.

Sherlock lit his first cigarette in ages and leaned back in the car closing his eyes, "Don't speak you are being insufferable." Sherlock said as Lestrade started the car and then suddenly started to laugh.

Sherlock sat up straight as a post and turned to look at him, "Really Greg that is uncalled for." Sherlock said as he flicked his cigarette and ash flung to hit Lestrades face.

"Come off it you big baby. I'm only laughing cause I was planning on asking Molly out for coffee today. Who'd have thought you'd beat me to it."

Sherlock froze and eyed him carefully, "Then the divorce has gone through?"

"Yeah…" Lestrade said suddenly becoming quiet and slightly sullen.

Sherlock had seen this type of scene before in those ridiculous movies John liked to watch. He was suppose to make Lestrade feel better….he was suppose to tell him he was better off with out her… he was supposed to be the friend that knew exactly what to say…

"I could pinch her off for you and frame the gym teacher for it." Sherlock said as he took another drag and looked out the window.

Lestrade stiffened and then slowly looked over at him, "You'd…you'd do that for me?" Lestrade asked and Sherlock looked over at him confused, "Of course, as John is my doctor and Molly is my pathologist you are my Detective Inspector… I'd jump off a building for you…" Sherlock said trying to hid his small smirk.

"You already did you bloody flying monkey and you still aren't dead."

The two started to crack up slowly but soon enough both were genuinely laughing and Sherlock flicked the rest of his cigarette out the window. Sherlock was reminded of the time at Buckingham palace, when Sherlock had been in a sheet and he and John had giggled and laughed like schoolboys at prep. It felt good.

"You're fucked you know that." Lestrade said through a large smile.

Sherlock had never heard the man swear in such a good-natured way before and he assumed the man only shared this side of himself with his close friends. Sherlock decided, as with the moment in Buckingham with John, he would keep this memory in his mind palace to pull upon whenever he needed a moment to remember why he did what he did.

OOOO

When Sherlock and Lestrade walked into the morgue they were forced to stop dead in their tracks by the sight that greeted them. Molly Hooper was snogging excessively with a rather large bloke in a leather jacket.

"Bad luck mate." Lestrade murmured and then he cleared his throat. Molly jumped and the man turned to see who had interrupted.

"Sherlock! Detective Inspecter!" Molly nervously wiped her lips and fidgeted with her lab coat as she tried to put herself back together.

"Did we interrupt?" Greg asked casually.

"Oh no… uh... Bruce was just leaving." Molly almost stammered but she seemed to catch herself and finally met Sherlock's eyes.

"Hey babe, uh, we still on fo' toni'?" Sherlock felt his eye twitch at the horrible English the man was spurting. He was the same height as Sherlock but he was older by at least five years. His muscles were rather huge and bulged under his clothing. His head was completely shaved and his watery blues eyes looked like they had seen a lot of things that Sherlock would have also seen, but from a different side of the law.

This was a man with a past; Sherlock could sense it and he didn't like the way Bruce was looking at Molly.

"And you must be Mr. Olmes."

"Holmes… with an H…" Sherlock said with irritation.

"Righ' well I'll see you later Babe." Bruce gave her another long kiss before he walked out.

"So, come to see the body of the old gentlemen from the river?" Molly asked almost too politely.

"Yeah, Sherlock thinks there was an accomplice and I am inclined to agree. Just need to see how he is looking."

"He is bashed up pretty badly." Molly said as she turned to pull down the sheet from the corpse that was lying center stage in the room.

"Kissing over corpses… that's a bit new for you Molly." Sherlock said as he approached the body, but his eyes never left her and he felt his eyebrow raise when he was greeted with a rather defiant stare, "It isn't like he will be telling anyone any time soon Mr. Holmes." Molly snipped a little to tartly.

Sherlock didn't respond though as his eyes had landed on the body and his mind went to red alert. He pushed everything that had been bothering him the last two weeks aside as he looked at the older gentleman that looked like he had been in a fight with a giant and lost…horribly.

"Good God." Lestrade said as he eyed the horrible beaten man before them.

Purple and black bruises covered his body in big splotchy patches. They seemed to continue to move down his body past the sheet that had been keeping his "decent" from the group. His face looked mushy from all the hard whacks he had taken and after Sherlock had donned a glove he pulled the man's lip up to see many of his old teeth had been knocked clear while others look shattered. His jaw was broken and his eyelids were barely visible from the swelling that had occurred.

"I do not think our little old lady could have caused such damage. You will need to ask her how she supposedly managed to beat this man black and blue. Also, ask her about a ring… a simple gold band… most likely faded and a bit scratched up."

"A ring?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "His ring finger has a line Lestrade. Meaning he had a ring on it… the line is very visible so he rarely took it off, which means it would probably be faded from bathing or doing work around his home."

"How do you know he had a house?" Lestrade again dared to ask.

"The file said that Liza lived at the home but her husband did not, which means he probably came to visit her often…he most likely still lives in their old home. Judging by the hickies on his neck hidden beneath the bruises he was enjoying his alone time very much."

Lestrade blew out some air from his mouth and raised his eyebrows, "Hope I am still going like that when I'm seventy."

Sherlock paused, "What did you say?"

"I just meant… you know… it's be nice to be able to…"

"No, his age, how old did you say he was?"

"Seventy-two… but what does that…"

"How old is Eliza?" Sherlock said shutting his eyes to try and recall the conversation from earlier.

"Ninety-five."

"Twenty-three years…." Sherlock whispered.

"What does that matter… my parents are ten years apart." Lestrade said looking confused.

"I need you to do some digging Lestrade."

"What do you need?"

"Figure out if Eliza Danbury ever had another husband… figure out when this man married her and double check to make sure there are no children resulting from this marriage or any others you might find."

"And what are you going to be doing?" Lestrade asked.

"First I am going to pick up my doctor then I am going to go have a word with a Miss. Eliza Danbury."

"She's old Sherlock, and rather nippy so be gentle but don't be pushed around." Lestrade said with a warning tone, "Last thing we need is for the old bird to have a heart attack."

Sherlock nodded and then turned back to Molly, "And you, _Miss. Hooper, _expect a text from me soon as we need to have a talk about the bulldog you were just mashing up against."

"Not another talk. I swear if you even try to throw me over your shoulder and carry me off like a dead thing I will hurt you so bad…"

"Carry her off like a what?" Lestrade asked as he stared in shock.

"Nothing… I will keep in touch." And with that Sherlock marched out of the room.

"He did what to you?" Lestrade asked pointing after Sherlock.

"You really don't want to know Detective Inspector, you _really_ don't want to know."

**A/N: All right guys, I know this was very short and I apologize but I've been time crunched. So I hope you enjoy this… the mystery itself won't be that big of a part in the story, it's more for Sherlock and Molly's benefit then your own but I hope you enjoy it. It's my first time writing a Sherlockian type mystery so we will see how this goes. Advice on the processes that is writing a good murder mystery would be much appreciated.**


	7. Dinner for three?

**A/n: So I've gone over and over it today and have decided what the final plot for the old woman story arch is, the whole point of it is to finally bring Sherlock and Molly together. And yes, Bruce was a rebound… but it's been two weeks since Sherlock last saw her… things are changing.**

**Chapter Six**

**Dinner for… three?**

Molly sat her napkin across her lap as she unfolded it and looked up to smile at Bruce. It had been almost three weeks since they had met and Molly had been having a grand time.

She had never gone for the bad boy type in her entire life; she had always felt to goody-goody to even try. But Bruce had seemed to like her from the start and had not indicated that her personality, looks or job had put him off her. In fact he seemed completely infatuated.

"So Mollberry what do you want to do after dinner. I just got paid from work… you wanna go to some place nice and quiet… maybe spend some time together… alone."

Bruce and Molly hadn't slept together yet because he hadn't really tried or pressed and Molly had been keen to take things slow considering her history with men and the fact that they had only just met and she didn't know a thing about him.

But now he was asking her in a rather cute, albeit, straightforward manner. If she said no would he lose interest?

"We will just have to see where the night takes us." Molly said giving a genuine smile to let Bruce know she wasn't completely putting it off.

"No rush, maybe we could hit a movie after or go over to The Pendragon."

"The Pendragon?" Molly asked.

"It's a bar I know of… I usually go two or three times a week. It's not very nice, not for a lady like you… kind of shabby actually. Me best mates hang around there. Come to think of it you probably wouldn't much enjoy it. It's kind of rough."

Molly smiled and blushed; "You'd be there though to protect me right?"

Bruce gave a huge smile and he winked at her, "Don't you doubt it."

A half hour later they were halfway through with dinner and Molly was laughing as quietly as she could as Bruce, still wearing his leather jacket, was telling a hilarious story about a duck and a shot gun that his father used to have.

"And then BOOM! Feathers went everywhere and the duck was just running around freaking out cause dad had split the pillow open. No more pillow sex for that duck."

Molly almost couldn't catch her breath; she choked a little and reached a shaky hand for her water glass.

"Oh my word, I've never heard of a duck trying to mate with a pillow. That is like a once in a lifetime opportunity. I would have loved to study the correlation between the pillow's downy and the duck's own plumage."

Bruce was still chuckling and gazing at her as he took a sip of his wine, "Ya know, you're the only woman I ever told that story to that actually laughed."

Molly straightened herself a little, "Well it's a fabulous story. If your father hadn't shot the pillow to get rid of all the noise I bet you the thing would still be trying to copulate."

"Copulate?" Bruce said with confusion.

"Oh, uh, it's another word for sex." Molly said blushing, "I've been working in a lab to long… everything has to be so scientific…all the time." Molly looked down a little worried at the table.

Bruce was instantly alert and took her chin up in his big fingers, "Oh Moll's… don't over think. I don't care that you're all science and blimey what else. I know I ain't got a PhD but I was kinda getting' the feelin' you were fancyin' our time together. I like it too, was hopin' you'd wanna do it more."

"Yes, lots more…" Molly said leaning into Bruce's warmth.

"Pardon, am I interrupting?" came a voice and Molly's warm feeling in her stomach crumbled and her heart sank and her head pulled away from Bruce and she looked over to see Sherlock sitting down beside them. The chair he was on was backwards and so his long thin arms were crossed over the backrest and his legs straddled it.

"Oh no… no no no…" Molly whispered as she sunk down in her chair and covered one side of her face with her hand.

"You were supposed to get a hold of me." Sherlock said as he completely ignored Bruce and directed his gaze straight at Molly.

"I had plans. I have a life out side of the lab, outside of you." Her words came out a little more bitter then she expected and Sherlock's eyes narrowed.

"Having a life outside of me is something I would willingly indulge for you but having him, "Sherlock said motioning to Bruce, "As part of that life outside of me is not something I am willing to adjust my life around."

"Sherlock please, one night… just give me one night to be happy…" Molly begged as she tried her best not to look over at Bruce.

"I thought you were happy. What more could you need… you have a sterile lab; plenty of dead bodies, and of course John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and myself. What else could you need… you even have a cat. A CAT MOLLY!"

Molly was about to snap back at him to leave her cat out of this conversation when suddenly a deep growl sounded and both Sherlock and Molly slowly looked over to Bruce.

"Sorry to interrupt you Mr. Olmes… but I think my dear friend Molly here has had enough of your drivel so move alone before I make you."

Molly felt her jaw hanging open as she looked between Sherlock and Bruce. These two men were at completely opposite ends of the spectrum, and while Molly admitted she would never usually go for a man like Bruce she had to admit he was sweet, gentle, thoughtful, not a crazy psychotic murderer and not Sherlock.

"You two can go about your date at a later time. I need Miss. Hooper right now, she owes me a talk. She promised she would talk to me, and I promised I wouldn't throw her over my shoulder like a dead animal."

"Like a what!" Bruce almost yelled standing. Sherlock watched the powerful man stand but made no move to retreat.

"Molly, let's blow out." Bruce dropped thirty pounds on the table and then gently took Molly's hand and guided her around the chairs and towards the exit. Molly looked over her shoulder and felt her eyes widen when she saw Sherlock was gone.

Once they got outside Bruce steered Molly towards the other side of the street and down a narrow lane, which led into a little park.

Bruce finally let go of her hand and turned to her, "Why do you let that man bully you so much. He treats you like dirt and yet you just let him walk all over your."

"I know… it's just… we spent a couple years… together." Molly said looking at her feet and kicking at some grass.

"Wait, you mean you and he… he was your boy?" Bruce asked with shock.

"OH NO! NO! He would never be MY boy. I mean, I didn't mean… I was trying to say that he isn't… we aren't…" Molly couldn't stop herself, she felt just like when she talked to Sherlock at the lab. Tears sprung to her eyes as she tried to force her nerves and agitation back down.

A soft warm hand took hers and another wrapped around her waist, "Hey Moll's, take a breather. Look… take a moment and just think of what you are trying to say… then just say it."

Molly took a couple deep breaths and then finally said as quickly as she could, "I've been in love with him for eight years and he doesn't love me back." It came out of her mouth so fast she clapped her hands over her lips and breathed in sharply through her nose.

"No, that's not what I meant to say. I loved him for six and cared about him for two. He was… away from home for a couple years for work and… I was the only friend that kept in touch… so we… were together… working through things….getting him home safely… GOD I CAN'T EXPLAIN WHAT SHERLOCK AND I ARE UNTIL I KNOW MYSELF!" Molly almost screamed.

"Hey Molly! Calm down. I can tell it's a touchy subject for you… look I ain't gunna judge. I don't expect you to be in love with me so lay it on me thick so I know what I am dealing with. You've only known me three weeks… it isn't like we are getting married. Treat me as your friend first… other stuff can come later."

Molly looked up at him and smiled and jumped forward to hug him, "The truth is… I am insane." She gave a crooked smile.

"I've been insane my whole life, and I can't seem to escape from it. I am in love with a man who can never love me back and no matter how cruel he is to me sometimes…. other times he is so wonderful and I love him for it… he is brilliant and stoic and passionate about his job and everything I've ever looked for in a potential mate. Not to mention his psychical appearance…"

"Aye, it's them cheek bones o' his." Bruce said sitting in the grass and pulling her down beside him.

"What?" Molly said suddenly alarmed.

"Calm down, I ain't gay but even I can see the man's cheek bones could cut ya…"

"Like a knife." Molly said with a groan as she flung herself to the ground and flopped on to her back.

"So let me take this all in, you've loved this brilliant handsome detective bloke for like… twenty million years and you've gone out of your way for him too… I am going to guess you've gone out of your way a lot… and now… you're trying to get over him… but he keeps showing up… ruining our date…"

"Are you kidding me? He ruins EVERY date."

"No shit?" Bruce asked as he pushed up onto his elbow and rolled over to look at her as she lay on her back.

"Yeah… he either has a case and needs me in the lab or… well… pretty much he just wants me to let him into the lab and to be his personal pathologist… and bring him body parts."

Bruce's eyebrows shot up and Molly giggled. "It's okay, they are already dead when I bring them to him… oh god no… I mean… they've been examined and categorized so taking them to him… I mean…" she stopped herself and then said slowly in a suddenly pathetic voice, "I take dead body parts to a man who isn't even my boy friend…" she covered her face with her hands and fell back onto the ground, "I AM SO PATHETIC!"

Bruce laughed and leaned closed, "Yeah you are…. But guess what berry butt…"

Molly's eyes shot open at the nickname and she stared at him in terror, "I like you anyway." He lunged at her and started to tickle her.

Molly wasn't sure what a giant man in a leather coat with tattoos tickling a tiny pixy framed girl like Molly, in her floral dress, actually looked like from afar but she was sure it must look ridiculous.

"OH GOD NO STOP! PLEASE OH MY!" Molly was laughing so hard when he stopped that she couldn't breath.

"You were the runt of the litter weren't you?" Bruce asked.

"You could tell huh?"

"Just a wee bit."

Molly rolled her eyes, "Where is that accent of yours from… I just can't… you are British right?"

Bruce smirked, "Okay, I will get this out of the way…. My father was British and my mother was Scottish but we lived in Ireland until I was ten, then we moved 'ere and my accent has been fuckered ever since."

"So you traveled a lot?" Molly asked as she started to stand. Bruce had already gotten up and offered to help.

"Yeah me dad was a-"

But Molly never heard the end of the sentence because just as he was about to finish Molly saw a shape sprinting towards her in the dark, her eyes bulged as she saw Sherlock gunning right towards her.

"Shi-" the profanity barely graced her dainty lips before she felt him reached around and threw her over his shoulder. He took off and Molly looked up to see Bruce standing there dumb struck.

OOOO

When Sherlock walked into 221 B John was sitting in his chair reading a book. John looked up at the sounds and felt his jaw almost unhinged as Sherlock set Molly Hooper down from his shoulder. Before he could stand to defend the poor girl Molly's hand wiped out and smashed across Sherlock's cheek.

"YOU WILL NEVER HUMILIATE ME LIKE THAT AGAIN YOU…YOU… BASTARD!"

Molly swung her purse and struck Sherlock on the top of the head, she was about to take another swing when Sherlock gripped her by the arms and raised her up and planted a very long kiss on her lips.

When he pulled away he asked in a rather breathy voice, "Can we talk now?"

"Okay." Molly said but her legs gave out and Sherlock caught her and picked her up.

"Hi John." She said waving as she hung limply in Sherlock's arms in a hazy blur from a kiss more passionate then Shakespeare.

John was staring after them in yet another state of total confusion and it was all he could do to raise his hand and wave very slowly as he watched Sherlock disappear with Molly into his room.

OOOO

Sherlock sat Molly down on his bed and she tried her best to straighten herself.

"I apologize for once again man handling you in such an ungentlemanly manner. But I couldn't allow your date to continue with this Bruce person." Sherlock said as he paced around the room in a frenzy.

"Sherlock, what is going on…you can't expect me to just let you get away with what you have just done. I mean, you interrupted my date… twice… this isn't normal…even for you." Molly said as she fidgeted nervously with her fingers.

"I don't like him… he is hiding things from you. He isn't a nice man." Sherlock said stopping to look at her.

"Sherlock, I appreciate your concern and I know you see more when you look at people then the rest of us, I know you can't help it either… most of the time… but I like Bruce. And our friendship aside… I want to keep seeing him." Molly said finally locking eyes with Sherlock.

He felt his heart twist with anxiety and his hands clenched open and closed several times before he crossed to Molly and knelt down on the ground in front of her.

"I don't like him, he is dangerous and you are in danger while you are with him. Please, for me, will you call this thing off?" Molly looked into the icy blue eyes that had captured her heart for so many years. She would have done anything for them if it had meant even half a second of them looking her way.

But something inside of her was tired, so tired, "Sherlock… I c-can't do this… I can't do it anymore. I know you can't love me… so I've got to keep trying to move on. For your sake and mine… if I don't move on my heart will continue to hurt and I can't expect you to keep allowing me to force you into trying to show you care when it's harder for you then anything else. It's selfish of me to expect things from you that you can't give. I am going to keep seeing Bruce Sherlock, I need to be loved and I deserve to be loved… and while I know I will always have feelings for you… I know you will always have a special piece of my heart I want to be loved… and you can't do that. "

Molly stood and started to head towards the door, "And if I was willing to try?" Sherlock asked and Molly turned to look back at him. Her face was surprised but not shocked and the space between them seemed to widen. They stood in silence, their eyes locked and even though Molly didn't notice Sherlock was holding his breath.

Finally Molly crossed to him and stood only a few inches away, "You would want to try?"

"If it meant keeping you for myself… not having to share you with the likes of Bruce or anyone else….if it meant keeping you close… yes."

Molly felt a shiver run up her spine as his deep voice ran like silk around her ears, "I-"

She didn't know what to say, she had dreamed of a day like this. A day where Sherlock would want to make her his and in return be hers. A singular entity that could not function with out the other, but was it all so that Sherlock could keep her at his beck and call or was it because he really cared?

Was he trying to seduce her again to keep her in his good graces… was he trying to manipulate her? Did she care?

Molly knew the answer, she did care, because she wanted to be loved and have someone to love in return. She wanted to feel like she really did count… he had come so close to showing his feelings for her on more then one occasion but he always pulled back at the last second.

She decided she knew what she had to do and she knew that she would have to deal with the guilt of her actions if she really wanted to know how truly sincere he was.

"Sherlock… I am going to ask you to do something for me. Something I would normally never ask you to do… something I know will probably hurt you… but I need to know… I have to know if you are just trying to manipulate me or if you are serious about this."

Sherlock's gaze intensified and he took a step forward, "Tell me, what do you need?"

Molly's mouth hung open slightly as she heard her words leave his mouth, the guilt rose up in her and she swallowed, she took a step to close the space between them and placed her hands on his face, a tear ran down her cheek as she tried to find her voice.

"Let me in." Molly said.

Sherlock's brows furrowed and he instantly took a step back out of her reach and Molly felt her hands slowly fall to her sides. She looked down and sighed softly, the instant he had broken away from her she knew he wouldn't be able to. The guilt that swam in her stomach was echoed with a pang of disappointment.

He was staring at her with an angry look and Molly knew she should leave; she reached for her purse and turned to leave.

As she reached for the door a tight hand wrapped around her upper arm and she was spun back around, "Wait… you don't know what you are asking for… there must be another way… some other way I can prove myself."

"It's not a riddle Sherlock. I just want you to let me in… show me you care… show me who you are."

"You know who I am." Sherlock protested and Molly felt his hand tighten on her arm but she didn't allow that to startle her, she knew he was having a really hard time with the situation.

"I know Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, but I don't know Sherlock Holmes… the man." Molly said letting her purse drop onto the beside table and moving back across to him, "Show me you care and I will consider leaving Bruce alone."

"Consider?" Sherlock asked as his eyes narrowed.

"You've pulled a sheet over my eyes for eight years… who says you couldn't do it again?"

"Several things… you desire to no longer love me, you want someone to love you and you are to clever for me know. You know all my tricks… I've worked you over to many times and now it seems you are trying to do it to me."

"No Sherlock, there is no game here, no tricks… either let me in or let me go."

Sherlock continued to stare at her and then he dropped his hand from her arm and looked away with bitterness in his eyes.

"I can't… I don't know how." Sherlock said and Molly could hear the anger and frustration in his voice. He was hiding it well but Molly had known him for to long, she heard his worries even if he didn't have to say them.

"All you have to do is tell me… let me in to what you are thinking, feeling… tell me why you really don't want me to see Bruce…"

Sherlock locked his eyes on the bed and Molly could tell he was trying to make it implode.

"Sherlock, look at me…" Molly once again took his face in her hands and steered his towards her own, "Would it be so horrible to allow yourself a moment to actually feel something more then just what your logic tells you to feel. You are good at faking emotions, not even I can tell… and I've known you for eight years. You could say you love me but you could fake it so easily and readily to reach the means to your end. The only reason I am asking you to do this is so I can know for sure… even if you can't say you love me right now… at least I would know that maybe someday… you could. For a fifty percent chance I would wait the rest of my life… but anything less then fifty-fifty just means it's a pipe dream and I am a fool for even hoping. I'd like my odds to be equal or slightly above average before I dedicate my life to a mere possibility."

Sherlock swallowed and then took a deep breath, "I… I care about you Molly Hooper. Against all odds… somehow… my heart cares for you. I can't say I love you… because a lie in any other words is still a lie. But I can tell you… your odds are at beast slightly above average… maybe…60 percent."

Molly felt her breath catch in her throat and she nodded and pressed her forehead to his, she felt tears build as relief filled her heart. Sherlock's long thin arms took her up and he moved to the bed.

He laid her down gently and came to rest beside her, "This is all so banal." Sherlock said as he stared at her, "Perhaps that is your problem… you think all this relationship and love business is boring… but have you ever tried it?"

"You know the answer you insufferable girl." Sherlock said with a hint of annoyance.

Molly gave a soft smile and leaned forward, she pressed her lips to his and he reciprocated. But this time Molly decided to try and keep Sherlock's "boredom" from taking over. She very carefully slid her tongue into his mouth and gently ran her fingers through his soft hair.

Whether Sherlock was aware of how his body had stiffened only to relax and brutishly pull her closer Molly didn't know but she liked his minor aggressiveness, there was something so bestial about it and yet he was gentle too.

Sherlock had always been the perfect mixture of man and beast…of clever detective and stubborn man-child… and though Molly has seen bits and pieces she wondered what type of concoction his sexual side would be if he ever felt comfortable enough to continue in his experiments with her.

She knew, secretly, that part of Sherlock was in fact experimenting with her, Mycroft had said he would, he had even warned her that Sherlock may take it to far some day.

But now they were in the moment, and they kissed for a long time. They felt each other out and took it slowly; Molly allowed Sherlock the dominant position, as she wasn't sure he would be comfortable with anything else.

That's when it happened, after a long time of soft kisses and tongues dancing, Molly's eyes shot open when Sherlock's hand start to slowly move up her leg. It stopped mid-thigh and squeezed almost painfully and Molly's heartbeat sped up in excitement.

His hand continued to move a little while later and his long thin fingers slowly pulled at the bottom hem of her dress and then he palmed it and bunched it up in his fist and gently pulled it up till the fabric rested on her hip. His warm hand slid down her thigh to her knee and back up several times before his fingers slipped between her thighs and rested mid-way up.

Apparently he was okay with that because he didn't try to go any higher. His lips left hers and went to the soft flesh of her neck. Molly wanted this to be moving so much faster but she tempered herself, she knew she had to be patient; he was only testing the waters. This might not last much longer so she may as well savor it.

When Sherlock finally did pull away he didn't go far and Molly saw how dilated his eyes were. "What?" he asked as he sat up and pulled his hands back into his own personal space.

"Nothing… I just… are you aware of how beautiful you are?" She asked in a dreamy state.

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out, "Between the dark hair, the blue eyes and those cheek bones… do you look more like your mother or your father?" Molly asked softly more to herself then to Sherlock.

"Everyone always said I looked like mummy. Mycroft received his appearance from our father." Sherlock said stiffly.

"Were you close with your mother?" Molly asked as she lay back to rest on the bed, she stared up at the ceiling and felt her eyes close.

"Both Mycroft and I were….very fond of our mother… I especially. She was the only one of my parents who understood me, who was patient with my little problems."

"Problems? You mean she was the only one who understood your brilliance." Molly clarified and heard Sherlock make a confirmatory noise.

"I wish I had been close with my mother but I was more like my father, I look more like him too. Funny thing genetics…" Molly said softly as she trailed off.

The silence between them was thick for a moment before Sherlock asked, "What are we doing?"

Molly said up and smiled, "Oh nothing Sherlock… you're just… letting me in."

**A/N: Hope you liked this chapter. I tried to keep Sherlock from being to brutal with Molly but sometimes it's unavoidable. Let me know what you thought. **


	8. The Tales of Fluff Butt

**A/N: Hey guys, It's been a bit and I am sorry. I won't be making this author's note long I just wanted to let you know I will try to get the next chapter up much faster. Much love and peace! Also, thank you all for the reviews, I know this has been rocky but that is the intention. The human brain when filled with chemical romance is a fickle thing. So I really appreciate the encouragement and honesty that you readers have brought. Anyway, enjoy! **

**P.S. there are a few small similarities between Sherlock's mother and Molly that I put in here… they are quite obvious but please let me know if you pick up on the subtlety. **

**Chapter Seven**

**The Tales of Fluff Butt**

Molly gently shut Sherlock's bedroom door in hopes of not disturbing the now sleeping detective. They had talked for a surprisingly long time, though it had been Molly who had guided the conversation as it was quite clear Sherlock was not used to it. He had made several comments on the pointlessness of it all and Molly had had to be creative in finding ways to get him to continue.

Sherlock had doused off during their conversational topic revolving around constellations. Not to say that he had been bored but Molly was under the impression that Sherlock had not slept in some time, the bags under his beautiful eyes were the proof.

As Molly crossed the flat and headed towards the exit she heard someone clear their throat and she turned to look over and see John in his usual seat.

"Oh, hello John. Have you had a fight with Mary?"

"What?" John asked looking at her with confusion.

"It's just… it seems every time I am here you are here and I wasn't sure if… problems at home?"

"Oh, uh no, no nothing like that. I was planning to leave here awhile ago but I was waiting for you… actually."

"Oh… what for?" Molly asked not sure if she was comfortable with the idea of John waiting around to question her.

"Look Molly…. Hmmm… I really don't know how to ask this simply but I've got to ask… are you and Sherlock…" John took his too pointer fingers and slowly put them side-by-side.

"Oh…wha- you mean are we- are we together?" Molly asked softly glancing down the hall towards Sherlock's room.

"Well are you?" John asked with a small hint of frustration.

Molly had to choose her words carefully, John was a friend now, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to intervene if he thought it was for Sherlock's own good.

"Honestly I don't know what we are." Molly sat down across from John in Sherlock's chair and let out a breath, "One minute it seems like he really fancies me… the next he is… Sherlock. He's been acting so out of sorts lately I can't really tell what is real with him and what is not. All I know is that ever since the night of his return he has hounded me for days on end and then he will disappear, feign interest, become a completely different person. To put it as BLUNT as I possibly can John, one minute he is a horny school boy and the next he is the world's greatest consulting detective.

"H-horny?" John asked with true awe.

"I am sorry, I don't know how better to explain it. He seems…"

"Possesive?" John offered.

"Yes…" Molly said with uncertainty.

"Controlling?"

Molly hesitated at that question, had Sherlock been controlling? The right question to ask was, had Sherlock been more controlling then usual?

"I was on a date tonight John. He intrupted the dinner and when Bruce, my date, told him off and took me off to a park Sherlock showed up and… well you saw how he brought me in."

John rubbed a hand over his face and sighed leaning back in his chair, "More then once?"

Molly nodded slowly if not with reserve, she wasn't sure if she should be sharing so much with John but she was truly at her wits end.

"Did you know he looks more like his mother? That he was very close with her and she was the only person he was willing to show affection towards? That he wanted to a pirate when he was a boy? That he had a unusually lengthy stay at rehab several times when he was a teenager and that he, despite his ignorance of our solar system, loves stars and the constellations?" Molly asked looking down at the hands on her lap.

John looked at her with surprise as he pondered this information, "He told you that?"

"He… I told him I wouldn't stop seeing Bruce unless he proved he cared about me. I asked him to… let me in." Molly said as tears brimmed at the corner of her eyes.

"And?"

"He did. It took a bit… he was stubborn but he eventually did or at least he tried."

John and Molly sat in silence for a moment before John muttered softly, "God… could he be…"

"He says he can't love me John. And part of me believes him; I know who he is and how he can be. But he said… that he was willing to try."

"And you believe him?" John asked.

"I want to. There is still so much you and I don't know about him. He is antisocial and he isolates himself at any opportunity that arises. At least that is what I have gathered over the years. As I understand it you were the first person he ever let in…"

"And it sounds like you could be the next. What I don't understand is why now? I mean, I get that you were his lifeline for two years… but… Molly what happened? I've gotten nothing out of him since he has returned, in all honesty I have barely gotten any time with him and when we do spend time together he asks me what to do about you. What happened between you two for the two years he was gone?"

Molly looked across the space at him and hesitated again, she hated not knowing what was too much to share. She didn't like her own uncertainty or how unsure she was about what might push Sherlock over the edge.

"Molly please… I've waited long enough." John said with pleading in his eyes.

Molly took a deep breath and nodded, "I will tell you the shorter version and let Sherlock fill you in on the rest when he is ready."

John nodded satisfied with this and got up to make some tea as Molly started to inform him of what had taken place in the last two years.

OOOO

"He always came back to my place so battered and beaten up. It was like he was fighting a war all on his own. I don't know how much Mycroft helped him in his mission to take down Moriarty's network but often times I felt like he would fall apart at any moment. I had often thought of calling you John… he would have n-nightmares that were so horrible… he would wake up screaming… it was like he had returned from military service with some strange form of PTSD. He even talked in his sleep sometimes… I could hear him… this things he would say… he was breaking John and I knew that if anyone could have helped him deal with it… but I couldn't tell you."

John bit his lower lip and shut his eyes tight, he had remembered the nightmares he had had after he had gotten back. Sometimes they still came around and John knew if Mary hadn't been there for him, he would have lost himself back into something dark and unforgiving.

"He started to stay away longer and longer, on one particularly long assignment I almost called Mycroft with every intention of telling him off about putting the life of his little brother in danger… but you know me John…"

"Mousy Molly… it would have been grand to hear you tell old Mycroft off."

Molly gave a small shy smile back to John but it was gone as quick as it had come when she started to tell this part of the story, "When he finally came back he was in bad shape, just awful. I had to sew him up… keep him in bed for two weeks… I was his full time caregiver and those two weeks were longest and most brutal of my life. I feared he would die in the night and I would wake up to find him cold and pale. But he pulled through… I nursed him back to health and when he was able to move about again he told me he had to go on one last mission… he was gone for six months and then… "

"He was back…" John finished for her as he stood to cross to Molly and knelt before her, "You kept him alive and you brought him back to us. You made sure he would come back Molly. We all owe you more then we can give."

"I love him John, I would have done _anything_ to ensure his safety." Molly replied with utter loss in her voice.

"Molly…"

"I've tried John… so hard to get him out of my heart… I don't know why I can't. I don't know why I don't just give up and move on. It hurts so bad to see him there and know he is unattainable… but recently he seems to have changed. He lets me touch him… he lets me be close and he speaks to me with so much respect... almost reverently. Ever since those horrible two weeks… things have become so…. Different."

John thought a moment and then cleared his throat and took hold of Molly's hands in his, they were small and cold and John tried to share his warmth with her.

"Have you ever heard of Florence Nightingale Syndrome?" John asked as he looked into Molly's eyes.

"Y-yes… but… it is only used in association with a nurse who falls in love with her patient." Molly said not sure where John was going with this.

"Yes, you are correct. And you were already in love with him when you started nursing him back to health. You must have been a very dedicated nurse and one that went to extra lengths for him, like you always do. However, there is a term often confused with the Florence Nightingale Effect. It is called transference…. a reproduction of emotions linking to repressed experiences, especially ones from childhood. They substitute another person in for the feelings they once had for someone else… maybe a mother…"

"Are you trying to tell me that… Sherlock was in love with his mother?" Molly asked with sudden fear.

"No… I mean… Sherlock loved his mother. I am not saying he was IN love with her but she seems to have been the only woman in his life… that he ever really cared about and openly showed affection to. What I am trying to say is… you took care of him for two years… patching him up, fixing broken bones, mending him and never turning your back on him, no matter his choices, just like his mother. There could be a small chance that he started associating you with the same feelings that he associated him his mother. Trust, respect, fondness and love. Mycroft once told me he was a very possessive child when it came to his mother, he often never let her out of his sight and would never leave her alone in any place he deemed unsafe. He was like a little guard dog and she fed into his protective and possessive nature because she was his mother, she loved him too. I think… in a way he has transferred these familiar childhood feelings… ones he has repressed for a long time… onto you."

Molly was staring at John in awe, it all made so much sense but she needed to cut through the thick of all this and just ask on simple question.

"Do you think he could actually love me?" as soon as the soft question passed her lips he regretted it and looked away with embarrassment and shame.

She felt John pull away from her but he didn't walk back to his chair, "I think that is a very distinct possibility Molly."

Her head snapped up to look at him, "Who knows what really goes on in that funny old head. But I do know that ever since he has been back he has been different, and the difference is that when he is not working a case or when he has any time to spare on his experiments instead of locking himself in his flat he goes out to find you."

John finally sat back down in his chair and looked across at Molly, "The only question now Molly is… how do we help him understand that he is on love with his pathologist?"

OOOO

_The fields of open grass stretched for at least two miles before they hit a very thick tree line. The warm glow of the sun lit up the flowers and the tall grasses that reached across the beautiful countryside. Sherlock was holding his wooden sword as he crouched below the tall grass that his him from his next victim. _

_All the booty in the world would soon be his, as his greatest enemy continued on his direct path right into Sherlock's hands Sherlock tightened the hold on his weapon. This time Mycroft the Terrible would not escape his fate. _

_Sherlock lunged from his hidden space and fell upon the older boy who he began to wake with his sword, "AVAST YOU TRATUROUS DOG! BEWARE ME STEELY BLADE!" _

"_Sherlly! What in Heaven's name are you doing!" Mycroft called as he shielded his face._

"_Revenge my dear brother! Revenge of ye who hath scared be so thouroughly!" _

"_Oh for pete's sake, you eight years old talk normal you silly fool!" Mycroft spat as she finally managed to shoved Sherlock off and take to his heels. _

"_COME BACK YOU BLOODY TRAITOR!" Sherlock called as he stood and chased after his big brother. _

"_You will taste my steel! You swine!" _

_Mycroft ran towards the only tree in the field as it stood high above the small creatures below and he started to climb. Sherlock flew after him and attempted to pursue the boy up the tree. _

"_You are so retched!" Mycroft called as he reached the highest branch and found he could go no further. _

"_You let the older boy's take my things!" Sherlock called having trouble reaching some of the higher branches as he only had one hand available. After a moment he tossed his sword and started to climb in earnest. _

"_I did no such thing you garden nomb! Besides, what do you need a stuffed rabbit for? Your eight years old!" _

"_Fluff Butt was my favorite toy you heathen!" Sherlock called as he continued to spout off words that were often considered to complex for any eight year old to know. _

"_I am no such thing! A heathen would indicate that I am some form of Pegan worshiper… so that is a foolish statement as I am sure you have observed that I don't worship at all." _

"_Fine you… you atheist!" Sherlock spat as he realized he had almost caught up with Mycroft. _

"_It isn't like you aren't an atheist too! Wouldn't mummy be so happy to know her little Sherlly is a blasphemer?" _

_The curse that flew from Sherlock's mouth just then was not, however, related to Mycroft's threat to reveal his religious views to his mother but because the branch he had been standing on had snapped. _

"_Mycroft! Mycroft help!" Sherlock called as he hung from the thin branch just below Mycroft's feet. When the older boy looked down expecting to see some form of ploy his eyes grew wide in fear. _

"_Don't move Sherlly I'm coming!" Mycroft called as he started to climb down and reach for his brother. As Sherlock's tiny fingers started to slip off Mycroft reached and grabbed his brother's wrist. _

_Sherlock looked up at him as he wiped the tears away from his eyes with his free hand, "Thank you." He said in a rather scared voice. _

"_Don't worry Sherlly, I won't let anything bad happen to you. I will get you do-" But before Mycroft could finish he heard another snap, "For being such a bloody big tree this thing sure has weak limbs!" Mycroft shouted in frustration. _

_He started to swing his brother, "Mycroft… stop… what are you doing! I'll fall!" _

"_You will fall anyway if you don't let me do this… try to get your foot on that branch over there… the big one…" _

"_I can't reach I am to short!" _

"_Just try!" Mycroft ordered as Sherlock started to cry again, "Be a big boy and stop crying! Emotions won't help you get out of here… just reach for the branch!" As the limb that Mycroft was holding started to bend further Mycroft gave a mighty swing and Sherlock's foot just barely grazed the branch. _

"_REACH!" Mycroft yelled but Sherlock was just too tiny, he couldn't make it and as Mycroft felt his support finally give with a sharp jerk he saw his hold on Sherlock's wrist break free. _

"_SHERLOCK!" Mycroft cried as he watched his brother fall, it was slow motion as the small branches and leaves wiped at the boy's arms, neck and back and Sherlock's face was filled with terror. When he hit the ground Mycroft released the branch that was now holding on by only a thread and started to climb down as quickly as he could. _

_He reached the ground to find Sherlock lying there unconscious, "Sherlock… wake up! Wake up!" Mycroft yelled. He looked around and knew there would be no one for miles. He took a deep breath and picked his little brother up and started his long trek back through the woods to his home. _

OOOO

_Sherlock felt the warm pillows beneath his head as he turned and tried to open his eyes. He felt sticky and hot and didn't want to be under all the thick heavy blankets anymore. _

"_Mummy…" Sherlock called through a scratchy throat. _

"_Hey sunshine… how's my pirate prince doing?" came the reassuring tone of his mother's soft voice. _

"_Mummy I fell…" _

"_I know. But it's all right now sweetheart. Mycroft brought you home and Dr. Mays fixed you all up. You will be hunting for treasure in no time." _

"_My leg hurts mummy." _

"_I know sweetie. Just try and relax. Here, mummy has a warm wet towel for your forehead… this will make you feel better." _

_After a few moment's Sherlock relaxed a little and he soaked in his mother's presence. _

_She hummed softly as she tended to him and then she gently moved his hair off his forehead, "All better now?" _

_Sherlock nodded and tried to move closer to her as she started to clean up the wet clothes and bandage supplies. _

"_Mummy, is Mycroft all right?" _

"_Oh yes dear, he has been in a bit of a tizzy over you. I am afraid he has hidden your wooden sword and he won't tell me a thing about where he has put it. But I think together you and I could solve the mystery… how's that sound? When you're all better?" Sherlock nodded and gave a small smile. _

"_Excellent." _

_Suddenly a door opened and loud heavy foot steps came in, "Oh, Siger look little Sherlly is already wide awake and doing much better." Sherlock's mother said with a happy tone. _

"_Don't call him Sherlly Violet. If he is ever going to grow into a man then calling him such a feminine name will only stunt his growth."_

"_Y-yes, of course, Sherlock, would you like to see your father?"_

"_I want you mummy." Sherlock said with mild protest. _

"_Oh Sherll- Sherlock… your father will only be home a s-short time and I think you should tell him about your adventures." _

"_Adventures?" Siger asked with interest. _

"_Oh yes dear he has been-"_

"_Well let the boy tell me… you suggested it after all." Siger motioned for his wife to go with a gentle wave of his hand and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, "Y-yes. I will just leave you two to talk." _

_Sherlock's father crossed and sat on the edge of the bed, "You've done it up this time my boy…chasing your brother up a tree. Very un-gentlemanly of you…" _

"_Yes father… I am sorry." _

"_Why did you chase him in the first place?" _

"_Mycroft let his friends take Fluff Butt. They strung him up and burned him." _

"_Fluff Butt?" his father asked incredulously. _

"_Yes. He was my favorite toy." _

"_Well a boy your age doesn't need so many toys. By the time I was your age I was doing far more then just playing with toys." _

"_Yes father." _

_There was a silence and though Sherlock could tell his father wanted to say more on the matter he cleared his throat and looked at his son, "Now tell me of these adventures of yours boy." _

_Sherlock felt anxiety fill his stomach but he started to speak anyway, "I have been to India and Arabia and even the shores of Paris, France in my search for booty." _

"_Booty?" _

"_Yes father, buried treasure. I am a pirate." _

"_Oh, I see… and what treasure have you found thus far my young pirate." _

_A small amount of excitement grew in Sherlock, would his father truly listen? Would he play along? Maybe when he came back from his next trip they could have adventures together. Sherlock preferred to play with his mother but he often had to rescue her and it grew tiring after awhile. _

"_I found the queen's missing jewels, and a million Spanish crowns and have even saved a princess from being deflowered!" _

_Sherlock felt his father stiffen a little at the last one but he didn't seem to be to caught off guard and Sherlock waited to hear his response. _

"_A very noble and gentlemanly thing of you to do my boy." _

"_Yes father, she even gave me a queen's ransom as a reward." _

"_A queen's ransom?" His father asked with curiosity. _

"_Oh yes, I had lot's of cake after and mother was the prettiest woman at the coronation of the princess. The queens been ill." Sherlock had whispered the last part as he had leaned a little closer to his father. _

"_Never good to have an ill queen." _

"_Now you know why they hired me to get her back. I am the best pirate there is… I steal from the rich and give to the pour and save pretty princesses from beasts like Mycroft the Terrible." _

"_Mycroft the what?" _

_Sherlock caught himself then, he knew his father preferred his elder brother to him. It was not hard to deduce. Sherlock was not allowed to speak ill of Myrcoft in front of his father and though Sherlock sometimes grew irritated with his brother he did care for him, he was just so mean. _

"_I just… Mycroft plays with me sometimes… he chose that name… I didn't…" _

_Sherlock saw his father's eyes narrow as he looked his youngest son up and down, Sherlock shifted uncomfortably under the icy gaze of his father and he hoped some day he too could make people feel as inadequate as his father did to him. _

_When Siger opened his mouth to say something the door opened and both Sherlock and his father looked to see Mycroft standing in the doorway. He held a small plush bunny in his hands and walked over to the bed side. _

"_Here is Fluff Butt… I did let them take him but I didn't let them burn him like they said. They were just teasing you. Serves you right for playing with bunnies." Mycroft said tossing the toy to Sherlock who caught it and stared at it with fixation. _

"_But don't expect your bloody sword back, I've got a bump on my head the size of Ascot and I won't be allowing you to bop me every time my friends pick on you." _

"_Just tell them not to pick on me and I won't whomp you." _

"_My dear baby brother, you did not WHOMP me… you caught me off guard and attacked when my back was turned… just like a pirate… very un-gentlemanly of you." Mycroft said crossing his arms over his chest. _

"_I don't want to be a gentlemen. I want to be a pirate and pirates don't play fair." _

"_All Holmes men are gentlemen Sherlock and you best not forget that." His father said with a warning tone. _

"_I don't want to be a gentlemen I want to be a pirate!" Sherlock said slamming the bunny down on the bed. _

"_One cannot be a pirate. Pirate's no longer exist. It's preposterous and low some and no son of mine will be in such a line of work. If you want to sail join the navy like I did. It's far more worth your time and you don't have to act like a wild beast." Siger said as he stood and yanked the bunny away from Sherlock. Mycroft's stance changed immediately, "Father… please give him back the toy… it's a silly old thing but he can't sleep with out it…" _

"_He will have to adjust just like the rest of us. We have all adjusted to how our lives have changed as we've grown… he will have to as well." _

"_But father… Sherlock is different… if things change… he can't… he needs consistency." Mycroft said reaching for the rabbit that was clasped firmly in his father's fist. _

_Sigre pulled his hand away and tighten his hold on the rabbit's head, "Your brother is a normal young boy, he will grow up to be a normal young man and he will marry and have a normal family. What ever the doctors have said about him I do not believe it. He is no different then you Mycroft and I expect you to start teaching him how to be a Holmes before I am forced to take drastic measures." _

"_I don't want to be normal!" Sherlock bellowed as he reached for his bunny. _

"_You will be normal like everyone else or so help me I will send you away to a place that can beat the normal into you do you understand me Sherlock Holmes!" _

_Sherlock looked at his father as tears came to his eyes, he nodded but didn't say anything. _

"_Now get rid of this thing. He is too old for toys. I am going to go find your mother." _

_After Siger left Mycroft crossed to the bed, "I won't sleep with out Fluff Butt… he makes my head not hurt." _

"_I know. I will find a way to let you keep him… for now just try to keep your mind calm. Don't let it wonder, try to focus yourself so you can get some sleep. Think of a giant palace, a place you can lock away all your bad thoughts and make sure all the good ones are close to you. Keep your palace locked nice and tight so when you sleep it doesn't open and fill your head with muck. I will keep Fluff Butt under my bed until father leaves and then give him to you later all right?" Mycroft said. _

_Sherlock nodded and lay back down, "I hate father." Sherlock murmured as he tried to close his eyes. _

_Mycroft sighed and turned to leave, "Sometimes I do to." _

OOOO

Sherlock opened his eyes and found he was alone in his room, Molly was gone but her scent lingered.

His mind palace was filled with light as he drifted in through the large oak and crystalline doors.

Everything was golden and shined like the sun, he looked around and waited. His mind palace was only so glamorous when someone special came to visit.

"_Hello Sherlly… how are you_?" Came the voice of his mother. Sherlock sifted through his many memories of her, the ones he had saved and had refused to erase.

"_Sherlly, you look excited today… is mummy going to get to play pirate too_?"

Sherlock always went straight to his mind palace after having a dream about his mother. His memories of her seemed to intensify and he could recall her better. Adding to that Molly's scent which often times reminded him of his mother's lavender bath oils, he had a very clear picture, more clear then it had been in a long time.

"_Sherlly, you scraped your knee! You are such a brave boy. Now let mummy dress it." _

Sherlock felt his heart tighten and he pushed out of his mind palace and rolled over into his side sinking into himself and gripping onto a pillow. Sherlock let out a soft moan as he thought of his mother and wished she was still around. He was sick for her tonight. He wished she was here and yet he knew that as he was now it wouldn't be the same. He was not the same as the little boy… he had changed, hardened and turned cold. Much like his father. Sherlock sat up and through his pillow at the wall.

How he hated his father, hated him for everything. For taking his mother away, for taking Mycroft away. Part of him, the part that was still an eight year old boy locked away in his mind palace even hated his father for taking Fluff Butt.

"Dingy old rabbit…" Sherlock muttered but he knew he didn't mean it.

He reached for his phone and against his better judgment texted his brother.

_Mycroft…. _

_SH_

_Why if it isn't my baby brother, the mouse tamer… to what do I owe the pleasure?" _

_MH_

_I am… feeling sentiment. _

_SH_

_You dreamed of Mother?_

_MH_

_Fluff Butt too…._

_SH_

_Use your mind palace. _

_MH_

_Did not work. Am Angry. Father was a tosser. _

_SH_

_He did what he thought was best_

_MH_

_I hate him… with passion…_

_SH_

_Hate and Passion… two very dangerous words that should not be put together let alone felt at the same time. You have seemed different brother… are you all right? Does this have to do with Miss. Hooper? _

_MH_

_NO!_

_SH_

_So a most definite yes then? _

_MH_

_I hate you too. _

_SH_

_Dear brother, you hate to many people. Even I know when not to stake the deck… especially against myself. Let your hate die off… think of how much better you felt when your love left you… you've not had a pain in your chest since. _

_MH_

_Do you miss sentiment? _

_SH_

There was no reply for a long time and Sherlock wondered if his brother had been caught off guard. But after another few minutes his phone vibrated.

_I miss mummy and that is as close to sentiment as I allow myself to become._

_MH_

_I miss mummy too. I do not think she would be happy with our life choices. _

_SH_

_She made hers and so did we. We stay strong and stand together… like always. _

_MH_

_Part of me still wants to be a pirate._

_SH_

_Good night brother. _

_MH_

_You really are terrible. _

_SH_

_You chose that name… not me. _

_MH_

_Good night Mycroft. _

_SH_

Sherlock tossed his phone aside and headed to collect his showering items when his phone went off again. He rolled his eyes knowing it would be Mycroft's attempt at a last word, perhaps starting this conversation had been a bad idea.

_I am sorry I had to leave. I have work early. If you need me… or want to talk.. I mean if you want to see me… I will be in my lab during the usual hours and then at home after… John went home to Mary too so the flat will be empty. It was nice to talk with you. : ) _

_Molly Hooper_

Sherlock stared at the message and read it several times before he put his phone onto his night stand and continued his morning routine.

He had the flat to himself today. He was going to take the time given to him and try to figure out why his life suddenly seemed so ordinary and boring.

He heard his phone go off again and he grunted at the annoyance, he picked it up and read the text.

_Any news on the old bird's case? Running out of time… meet for coffee? _

_Lestrade _

Sherlock texted back a quick replay and felt his mouth twitch into a smile, perhaps his life was not becoming as ordinary as he thought.

**A/N: Let me know what you thought! Lots o' love! -Apprentice08-**


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